Reminiscences 

I  Of  I 


Frontier  Life 


By 
I.  B.  HAMMOND 


Reminiscences 

of  Frontier  Life 


^     Compliments  of 


!  B.  HAMMOND 

PORTLAND,   OREGON 


1904 


N-2, 


COPYRIGHTED 

1904 


o  INTRODUCTION. 

At  the  request  of  my  friends  I  have  endeavored  to 
relate  a  few  of  the  incidents  connected  with  my  life  in 
the  West. 

tin  the  following  pages  will  be  found  some  of  my 
actual  experiences  as  far  as  I  can  write  them  from  mem- 
ory. I  have  made  twenty-five  trips  to  Alaska,  been  many 
times  through  Mexico,  British  Columbia  and  England, 
and  during  the  last  thirty-three  years'  travel  have  seen 
many  things  that  would  make  interesting  reading  were 
it  in  the  hands  of  a  writer.  I  hope  my  short-comings 
will  be  overlooked,  as  these  pages  are  only  as  reminis- 
cences for  my  friends. 

I.  B.  HAMMOND, 
Portland,  Oregon. 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

Introduction      ---  ___ _       3 

How  I  Happened  to  Go  West  --------  9 

An  Indian  Scare  --          ------------       9 

A   Fight   Between  Wild   Animals   -------    r    -    -    15 

A  Buffalo  Stampede  -  -     21 

Locating  a  Colony,  Part  I.— A  Prairie  Fire  ------     26 

Locating  a  Colony,  Part  II.— A  Nebraska  Blizzard  -     -  •        34 
Sour  Bread  or  No  Bread  -  38 

Buffalo's  Lament  (Poem)  -  43 

'The  Downfall  of  Big  Steve  -  44 

My  German  Friend  --------------47 

The   Milkman's   Revenge   ------------51 

Custer's   Massacre   -  ------------55 

A   Runaway   Train    -  -----------58 

Mine    Salting   -  62 

A  Preaching  Expert  68 

My  First  Trip  to  Alaska  -  74 

A  Stampede  for  Gold  -  78 

The  Midnight  Sun  86 

A  Tidal  Wave  -  92 

A  Glacier   (Poem)  -     -     97 

A  Trip  to  the  Seven  Devils  Mountain  ------          -     98 

Getting  Off  My  High  Horse  -  -  104 

Romance  Without  Love      ------------  107 

A  Trip  to  Nome  -  -  110 

Meeting  on   the   Trail   -  -  115 

My  English  Friend  -  -  117 

Mining  Definitions     --------- 118 

A  Free   Bath   -  -  120 

The   Go-Devil   -  -  122 

Resources  in  a  Mining  Camp  -----------  125 

Boring  an  Engine   Cylinder  -----------  127 

Packing  Machinery  -  -  128 

A  Trailing  Letter  -  -  130 

Early  Days  in  the  Black  Hills  -  131 

I.  B.  Hammond,  the  Pioneer  (Poem)  -     -     -     -  -  135 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page 
Portrait  of  I.  B.  Hammond  -          ---_--_-_       8 

A  Fight  Between  Wild  Animals      -     - -     -     19 

A  Buffalo  Stampede       --------..___     25 

A  Prairie  Fire      -__.__ -31 

The  Downfall  of  Big  Steve  -     -     -    - -    -     46 

The    Milkman's    Revenge        -----------    52 

Custer's  Massacre  (Poem)  _______     55 

A   Runaway   Train   -  __--____.     5£ 

Mine    Salting   ----- ____61 

My  First  Trip  to  Alaska  -          -     -     - -74 

A  Tidal  Wave _    _    _     _     95 

The  Go-Devil    -  -' -    -  124 

Packing  Machinery -  129 


I.    B.    HAMMOND. 


HOW   I    HAPPENED    TO    GO    WEST. 

During  the  Civil  War,  when  every  able-bodied  man 
was  being  sought  for  the  army,  I  was  the  elder  of  two 
sons,  and  very  naturally  felt  it  my  duty  to  join.  I 
enlisted  and  passed  county  inspection,  and  with  the  rest 
of  a  company  which  I  had  joined,  went  to  Joliet,  Illinois, 
to  be  examined  by  United  States  inspecting  physicians 
for  muster  into  the  army.  We  went  into  camp  and 
soon  were  called  for  medical  examination.  I  was  examined 
by  a  young  doctor,  who  reported  that  my  lungs  were 
affected  and  turned  me  over  to  older  physicians,  who 
confirmed  his  report  and  rejected  me  as  unfit  for  service. 
So,  as  a  consumptive,  I  went  home  and  my  parents 
became  very  much  worried  in  regard  to  my  health.  I 
tried  twice  more  to  join  the  army  but  was  rejected  in 
each  ease.  I  then  consulted  an  old  family  physician,  who 
said  the  best  thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  go  west  into  the 
mountains.  Two  months  later  found  me  headed  for  the 
West,  and  so  far  as  I  know  the  tuberculosis  was  lost  in 
the  shuffle  that  followed  the  doctor's  advice — a  very 
strenuous  shuffle  out  on  the  sage  plains  and  among  the 
mountains  of  the  blessed  West. 


AN    INDIAN    SCARE. 

My  first  adventure  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  will  be 
always  as  fresh  in  my  memory,  I  believe,  as  at  the  time 
it  happened. 

I  was  accompanying  a  geological  surveying  party 
over  the  main  range  of  the  Rockies  across  the  Big  Horn 
Mountains  and  through  what  is  now  the  National  Park, 


10  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

to  Fort  Benton  on  the  Missouri  River.  Probably  not 
ten  miles  of  our  route  had  been  trodden  by  white  men 
at  that  time.  Many  times  we  were  prepared  to  be 
slaughtered  by  the  Indians,  could  we  have  found  some 
obliging  redskin  to  do  the  job,  and  it  would  have  taken 
but  an  Indian  head-dress  and  a  red  blanket  to  massacre 
the  entire  party. 

A  single  moccasin  track  would  work  us  up  to  such  a 
pitch  of  excitement  that,  sleeping  or  waking,  our  imag- 
inations peopled  the  woods  on  all  sides  of  us  with  blood- 
thirsty savages. 

While  under  the  stress  of  one  of  these  periodical 
excitements  our  ponies  and  mules  stampeded  and  they 
found  ready  followers  in  the  seven  (very)  pale-faces 
who  felt  the  vital  importance  of  keeping  up  with  the  rest 
of  the  procession.  We  deemed  it  wise  to  stay  with  the 
ponies  even  were  there  no  Indians  in  the  whole  country. 
Our  position  was  almost  the  same  as  the  Irishman's  who 
had  gone  hunting  rabbits  without  a  lock  to  his  gun. 

"Divil  a  bit  o'  lock  has  yez  in  yer  old  gun!"  said  his 
companion. 

"Whist  now,"  says  Pat,  "the  rabbits  don't  know  it." 

Nor  did  we  know,  when  our  mules  snorted  and  became 
uneasy,  but  that  there  might  have  been  thousands  of 
redskins  concealed  in  the  bushes  about  us. 

At  one  point  of  our  journey,  in  pitching  our  camp  for 
the  night,  we  selected  a  good  place  to  keep  our  stock. 
We  were  surrounded  by  a  creek,  in  a  complete  circle, 
excepting  a  small  neck  of  land  which  we  occupied,  and 
over  which  they  would  have  to  pass  in  escaping  us.  We 
had  just  about  finished  supper  when  the  watch-dog  of 
our  herd,  a  large  black  mule,  began  to  snort.  We  had 


An  Indian  Scare.  11 

previously  trained  the  mule  to  give  evidence  of  approach 
of  man  or  beast  by  taking  him  beyond  the  herd  and 
tieing  him  up  alone  and  then  by  careful  maneuvering 
scaring  the  animal  to  such  an  extent  that  he  would  re- 
member his  lesson.  He  had  become  so  watchful  that  not 
a  wild  animal,  or  even  a  bird,  could  come  to  our  neigh- 
borhood without  his  giving  us  the.  usual  signal  with  his 
unmusical  snorting. 

We  had  grown  somewhat  nervous  from  having  seen 
some  moccasin  tracks  in  the  afternoon  and  were  prepared 
to  jump  and  run  behind  the  first  tree  w^e  could  reach, 
when  our  trained  mule  gave  another  snort,  as  the  sign 
of  alarm,  which  made  every  man  jump  and  reach  for  his 
gun.  In  loading  his  gun,  one  of  our  party  accidentally 
discharged  his  rifle,  which  added  to  the  excitement,  and 
at  the  crack  of  the  gun  the  stock  came  towards  us  on 
the  dead  run.  I  endeavored  to .  stop  the  animals  and 
expected  to  get  a  bullet  from  some  redskin,  as  I  supposed 
the  shot  fired  was  from  the  Indians.  I  fully  realized  the 
importance  of  saving  the  stock,  and  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  stop  the  animals,  but  they  rushed  toward  us, 
maddened  with  fright,  and  we  saw  that  they  would 
trample  us  under  their  feet,  so  let  them  pass.  But  all 
hope  of  keeping  them  was  not  yet  gone.  I  caught  hold 
of  the  picket  rope,  which  was  being  dragged  along  by 
the  frightened  animals,  but  the  rope  slipped  through  my 
fingers,  and  the  picket  pin,  which  was  fastened  to  the 
end,  struck  me  a  terrific  blow  on  the  head,  that  almost 
knocked  me  senseless.  My  first  impression  was  that  I 
was  being  scalped,  and  not  until  I  had  put  up  my  hand 
and  found  my  hair  safe,  did  I  realize  what  had  happened. 

After  collecting  my  scattered  thoughts,  I  started  for 


12  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

the  stock,  which  had  by  this  time  gone  out  of  sight.  I 
'•Mil  a  short  distance  when  it  occurred  to  me  that  I 
had  loft  my  gun  behind  and  had  only  a  revolver  with  me, 
but  as  I  dared  not  lose  the  stock  I  kept  on,  although  the 
thought  of  being  compelled  to  go  on  without  my  rifle  was 
not  a  pleasant  one.  The  further  I  got  from  camp  the 
more  dreadful  the  thought  became,  and  I  censured  myself 
for  being  caught  in  such  a  predicament,  without  provis- 
ions and  not  even  a  gun  with  which  to  defend  myself  or 
to  kill  something  to  eat. 

Everything  was  now  still  as  death,  not  a  sound  from 
man  or  beast  in  any  direction;  but  one  consoling  thought 
remained— that  I  had  come  within  sight  of  ponies  and 
mules,  which  were  now  going  quite  slowly,  and  in  a 
short  time  I  was  enabled  to  creep  up  near  enough  to  make 
fast  the  picket  rope,  and  feel  that  the  stock  was  safe. 
I  was  suffering  great  pain  from  the  blow  I  had  received 
from  the  picket  pin,  which  did  not  leave  me  with  very 
clear  ideas  in  a  time  of  need. 

Now  came  the  moment  of  my  discontent— out  alone 
in  an  Indian  country,  without  food  or  gun  and  wondering 
if  my  companions  had  all  been  killed,  without  even 
firing  a  shot.  I  kept  turning  this  over  in  my  mind,  and 
as  the  night  wore  on,  concluded  to  make  my  way  back 
to  the  vicinity  of  our  camp  and  endeavor  to  see  or  hear 
of  my  comrades. 

Leaving  the  stock  in  a  secure  place,  I  cautiously  moved 
toward  camp,  walking  about  an  hour,  in  the  direction  in 
which  I  supposed  the  camp  to  lie,  to  a  side  hill  over- 
looking the  creek;  but  I  could  not  locate  the  camp  ground. 
I  stood  looking  around  for  some  familiar  spot,  when  I 
saw  the  flash  of  a  rifle,  which  I  knew  was  pointed  at  me. 


An  Indian  Scare.  13 

I  instantly  dropped  to  the  ground  to  avoid  the  bullet, 
but  not  quite  in  time,  for  though  at  such  long  range  and 
at  night,  the  aim  was  good,  and  the  leaden  messenger 
whizzed  through  my  vest  and  coat  sleeve,  making  my 
flesh  tingle  from  the  sting.  During  the  next  ten  minutes 
there  was  some  expert  crawling  from  that  neighborhood 
and  over  the  hill,  and  on  reaching  the  other  side  my 
strides  were  long  and  fast  in  the  direction  of  the  ponies. 
This  last  experience  was  a  puzzle  to  me  and  I  could  not 
solve  the  problem  to  my  satisfaction.  I  could  not  decide 
which  way  to  go,  but  finally  concluded  that  I  must  find 
my  comrades,  dead  or  alive,  as  I  knew  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  reach  any  settlement  in  my  present  condition. 
I  moved  the  stock  over  the  hill  and  down  into  a  ravine, 
and  once  more  made  the  animals  secure. 

By  this  time  daylight  was  beginning  to  appear,  and 
the  break  of  day  enabled  me  to  look  up  and  down  the 
creek  from  my  position  without  being  seen.  I  waited 
patiently  for  some  time,  and  my  patience  was  rewarded 
by  the  appearance  of  three  men  coming  around  a  point 
of  timber,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  I  saw  two  more 
come  from  another  direction.  I  soon  recognized  them 
as  belonging  to  our  party,  and  was  almost  overcome  by 
the  thought  of  meeting  my  comrades  once  more.  But 
where  was  the  seventh  man?  I  could  not  help  thinking 
that  he  must  have  been  killed  by  the  Indians.  I  won- 
dered why  some  one  else  was  not  killed  and  why  those 
men  were  there  if  they  had  been  attacked  by  the  Indians. 
I  felt  sure  that  a  fight  had  taken  place,  as  I  was  still 
smarting  from  the  sting  of  the  bullet. 

After  making  sure  that  I  could  not  be  mistaken,  I 
ventured  to  put  in  an  appearance,  much  to  the  delight 


14  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

of  all,  who  were  mourning  the  loss  of  the  stock  along 
with  two  members  of  the  party.  After  satisfying  them 
with  regard  to  the  animals,  they  asked  where  Young  (the 
missing  man)  was.  I  had  not  dared  to  ask  them  first, 
fearing  they  would  say  he  had  been  killed ;  but  on  looking 
around  we  caught  sight  of  our  poor  comrade,  and  when 
he  appeared  we  felt  as  if  we  had  all  been  spared  from  a 
horrible  death.  We  felt  sure  that  he  must  be  wounded, 
and  on  asking  if  he  was  shot,  he  replied: 

"Me  shot?  No;  but  I  think  that  red  devil  will  not 
scare  another  party  again." 

"Who?"  and  "What?"  were  the  anxious  inquiries 
on  our  part. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "you  know  when  I  went  to  get  my 
gun,  after  the  mule  began  to  whistle,  in  some  way  or  other 
I  discharged  it,  and  on  looking  around  every  man  of  you 
had  left  me.  I  then  heard  the  confounded  red  devils  in 
the  brush  going  down  the  creek  after  the  horses,  so  I 
knew  they  were  after  them  and  not  our  scalps.  I  then 
followed  the  creek,  hoping  to  get  sight  of  them,  and  lay 
in  ambush  until  near  daybreak,  when  sure  enough,  way 
up  on  the  hillside,  I  saw  one  of  the  cusses,  and  I  think 
you  can  get  his  scalp  by  going  after  it." 

Then  came  my  turn.  "Then  you  are  the  red  devil 
who  shot  at  me?"  at  the  same  time  showing  them  the 
buttonhole  he  had  made  in  my  sleeve.  I  never  saw  a 
paler  man  than  he  was  for  a  few  minutes,  and  he  trem- 
bled from  head  to  foot.  Now  came  the  time  for  investiga- 
ting into  the  cause  of  all  this  scare.  We  were  rewarded 
in  our  search  by  finding  tracks  of  a  buffalo,  which  had 
followed  up  the  dry  creek  to  get  water,  and  had  found 
a  hole  containing  water  in  the  vicinity  of  our  camp.  The 


A  Fight  Between  Wild  Animals.  15 

mule,  acting  as  our  watch-dog,  had  scented  the  buffalo, 
began  to  snort,  and  then  followed  the  stampede  of  the 
stock  that  scared  the  senses  out  of  the  entire  party. 

Mr.  Young,  on  recovering  from  his  fainting  fit,  asked 
in  a  low  tone,  if  there  was  any  one  who  wanted  to  shoot 
a  d—  -  fool,  and  added  that  he  knew  where  there  was 
one  who  needed  killing. 


A    FIGHT    BETWEEN   WILD    ANIMALS. 

Many  years  ago,  I  was  connected  with  a  survey  party, 
located  at  that  time  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  in  Wyoming 
Territory,  our  object  being  to  ascertain  the  most  feasible 
route  whereby  a  railroad  could  be  built  north  of  the 
Union  Pacific  Railroad  survey,  and  south  of  the  British 
possessions,  to  the  Pacific  Coast. 

After  considerable  inquiry  regarding  the  country  we 
were  about  to  go  through,  which  was  but  very  little 
known  and  quite  unexplored,  we  obtained  what  informa- 
tion was  necessary,  and  formed  a  small  party,  numbering 
seven  men,  who  were  selected  as  being  the  most  able  to 
undertake  the  trip.  Our  starting  point  was  from  Raw- 
lings  Springs,  Wyoming ;  leaving  the  overland  stage  route 
between  Denver  and  Salt  Lake,  with  the  intention  of 
following  the  main  range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  north- 
ward to  the  British  possessions. 

Could  we  but  have  drawn  aside  the  curtain  of  the 
future  and  looked  ahead  a  few  months,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  we  would  have  respectfully  declined  to  have  started 
out  in  this  direction.  Probably  it  is  better  for  us  that 
wTe  cannot  see  into  the  future  of  our  lives ;  for  disappoint- 
ments would  be  sure  to  present  themselves  strongest  in 


16  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

our  minds,  and  thereby  change  the  whole  course  of  our 
arrangements.  At  least,  this  would  apply  to  my  case  in 
this  instance. 

Having  secured  some  ponies  and  mules  for  riding  and 
packing,  we  made  a  start  towards  the  mountains,  expect- 
ing to  be  gone  about  four  months,  and  to  return  by  way 
of  the  Missouri  River  to  Omaha. 

For  the  first  few  days  it  seemed  like  a  pleasure  trip, 
but  our  course  became  more  rough  and  rugged,  and  often 
accompanied  by  great  danger  and  much  suffering  from 
want  of  water.  In  order  to  keep  from  encountering  hos- 
tile Indians,  we  were  obliged  to  keep  away  from  the 
water-courses ;  but  many  times  there  was  but  little  choice 
between  the  two.  Thirst  will  drive  most  men  to  despera- 
tion, in  spite  of  surrounding  circumstances,  and  the 
judgment  required  in  shaping  a  course  through  a  hostile 
Indian  country  is  often  thrown  to  the  winds,  when  des- 
peration takes  possession  of  the  mind.  Then  a  man  finds 
fault  with  his  comrades,  and  desperate  encounters  with 
each  other  will  often  result  from  the  most  trifling  affairs, 
which,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  would  pass  unob- 
served. 

We  often  found  ourselves  in  this  position,  maddened 
from  thirst  and  in  constant  dread  of  the  Indians. 

After  being  out  about  a  month,  we  reached  the  Big 
Horn  range  of  mountains.  Then  our  progress  became 
very  slow  indeed,  and  sometimes  we  did  not  make  twenty- 
five  miles  in  our  direct  course  during  the  entire  week. 
After  considerable  deliberation,  we  decided  to  direct  our 
course  east  and  take  greater  risks  with  the  Indians.  As 
we  followed  the  water-courses  east  among  the  foothills, 
the  Indian  signs  became  more  numerous  day  after  day, 


A  Fight  Between  Wild  Animals.  17 

and  we  naturally  became  more  nervous  and  easily 
frightened. 

In  going  into  camp  for  the  night,  I  was  generally 
appointed  to  perform  the  duty  of  reconnoitering  the 
country  to  make  sure  that  no  Indians  were  lurking  in 
the  neighborhood  to  give  us  a  surprise  during  the  night. 

One  evening  we  struck  camp  quite  early,  and  I  took 
my  gun  to  make  my  usual  rounds  before  turning  in.  I 
had  almost  completed  a  circle,  and  climbed  a  steep  hill; 
where  I  could  look  around  for  a  long  distance  in  all 
directions.  On  nearing  the  top,  my  movements  were  made 
with  much  care,  for  fear  of  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  much-dreaded  redskins.  On  gaming  the  summit,  I 
had  raised  myself  just  high  enough  to  look  beyond  the 
top,  when  my  attention  was  directed  to  a  small  cotton- 
wood  thicket  near  by,  a  slight  noise  evidently  coming 
from  that  direction. 

As  a  natural  result,  my  hair  raised  my  hat  a  few 
inches,  and,  to  lower  that  hat,  it  was  necessary  for  me  to 
lie  low.  It  was  with  the  greatest  anxiety  that  I  listened 
as  I  never  did  before  for  some  further  sounds  as  evidence 
of  danger,  when  I  heard  a  noise  resembling  the  panting 
of  a  dog  after  having  run  a  long  distance.  I  was  very 
anxious  to  look  in  the  direction  of  the  sounds,  but  my 
courage  seemed  to  have  deserted  me.  After  considerable 
silent  debate  on  my  part,  I  slowly  raised  my  head  once 
more  above  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  saw  a  small  black 
bear,  within  eighty  feet  of  my  hiding-place.  He  was  not 
aware  of  my  presence,  for  he  was  furiously  digging  up 
the  ground  with  his  whole  energy,  and  was  evidently 
very  much  excited.  His  whole  attention  was  directed  to 
making  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  he  was  at  work  with 


18  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

his  four  paws,  meanwhile  continuing  the  panting  noise- 
that  at  first  had  attracted  my  attention. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  shoot  at  him,  but  on  second 
thought  I  remembered  our  orders  to  reserve  our  fire,  for 
fear  of  arousing  the  Indians;  only  in  cases  of  great 
emergency  were  we  to  shoot.  On  looking  around,  I  found 
one  of  the  men  had  gone  to  the  creek  for  water,  and  had 
been  watching  my  movements.  I  beckoned  to  him  to 
come,  at  the  same  time  motioning  to  him  to  keep  very 
quiet,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  with  me.  I  had  an 
idea  that  something  was  about  to  occur,  judging  from  the 
actions  of  the  bear  and  his  highly  excited  state,  and,  as 
the  following  will  prove,  I  was  witness  to  one  of  the  most 
terrific  encounters  between  wild  animals  that  I  have  ever 
seen  or  heard  of. 

While  gazing  at  Bruin  in  his  endeavors  to  tear  up 
the  whole  earth,  our  attention  was  directed  to  a  sound 
in  the  bushes  from  which  the  bear  had  come  but  a  short 
time  before,  and  we  silently  looked  in  that  direction,  with 
bated  breath,  and  in  great  expectancy. 

Suddenly  we  saw  a  large  panther  stealthily  emerge 
from  the  thicket,  with  his  head  close  to  the  ground,  fol- 
lowing up  the  trail  of  the  bear,  and  so  intent  was  he  on 
scenting  the  trail  that  not  until  he  was  within  forty  feet 
of  the  bear  did  he  discover  his  enemy. 

When  we  looked  at  the  bear  again,  we  were  consid- 
erably surprised  to  see  the  position  that  he  had  taken. 
He  was  lying  on  his  back,  in  the  trench  he  had  just 
digged,  with  his  claws  in  the  air,  evidently  fully  pre- 
pared for  any  attempt  to  dislodge  him  by  the  panther. 

It  was  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten— the  bear  in  his 
,  ready  to  receive  the  attack  of  the  panther,  who, 


20  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

having  now  caught  sight  of  the  bear,  crouched  on  the 
ground,  swinging  his  tail  from  side  to  side,  like  a  huge 
tomcat  whose  rights  are  being  encroached  upon. 

In  this  position  the  panther  remained  for  a  short 
time,  evidently  studying  the  best  mode  of  attack. 
Finally  he  rose,  and,  with  a  stealthy  step,  began  to  circle 
around  the  bear,  uttering  a  low,  catlike  cry,  and  glaring 
at  his  foe  in  a  ferocious  manner.  The  bear  meanwhile 
kept  up  a  continual  panting  and  growling,  and  watched 
every  movement  the  panther  made  in  his  rounds.  We 
could  see  that  the  panther  was  preparing  to  make  a 
spring;  our  feelings  were  worked  up  to  the  highest 
excitement,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  we  could  restrain 
ourselves  and  wait  for  the  end,  which  we  knew  could 
not  be  far  off.  The  panther  now  crouched  close  to  the 
ground,  and  every  nail  seemed  to  be  working  its  way 
into  the  sod,  his  tail  lashing  furiously. 

With  a  fearful  bound,  the  panther  leaped  into  the  air 
and  came  down  on  the  b'ear,  who  in  return  was  ready 
to  receive  him,  and  when  they  came  together,  the  bear, 
with  a  mighty  effort,  threw  his  enemy  some  ten  feet  from 
him,  by  the  mere  strength  of  his  legs. 

The  panther  was  evidently  expecting  such  a  reception, 
and  saw  his  chance;  for,  quick  as  a  flash,  he  sprang  for- 
ward again,  and  crawling  between  the  bear's  hind  legs, 
slowly  worked  his  way  up  the  bear's  body  until  he 
reached  his  throat.  This  seemed  to  be  his  point  of 
attack,  for  he  planted  his  teeth  firmer  and  firmer  into 
the  bear's  neck,  the  bear  meanwhile  trying  with  all  his 
strength  to  tear  the  panther  loose.  Closer  and  closer  the 
panther  clung  to  his  hold,  his  teeth  sinking  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  bear's  throat. 


A  Buffalo  Stampede.  21 

We  watched  breathlessly  for  the  coining  result,  and 
saw  the  bear's  struggles  become  weaker  and  weaker,  and 
finally  cease  altogether,  which  we  knew  meant  death. 
In  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  forgetting  our 
natural  enemies,  I  sent  a  bullet  into  the  panther,  who 
at  the  crack  of  the  rifle  sprang  high  in  the  air  and 
dropped  dead  by  the  side  of  his  victim. 

We  skinned  the  animals  and  attempted  to  take  the 
skins  with  us,  but  the  weather  being  so  warm,  and  having 
a  long  distance  to  go,  I  was  forced  to  leave  them  behind, 
much  to  my  regret. 


A    BUFFALO    STAMPEDE, 

While  traveling  through  the  Rockies  on  our  geological 
survey,  I  was  an  eye-witness  to  the  most  awful  stampede 
and  destruction  of  a  large  herd  of  buffalo  that  it  has  ever 
been  the  lot  of  a  white  man  to  look  upon.  The  action 
which  caused  the  death  of  over  two  hundred  of  these 
noble  animals  was  purely  accidental  on  our  part,  but  I 
have  since  learned  that  the  Indians  often  employed  the 
same  means  of  killing  them.  Were  it  in  our  power  to 
restore  the  number  of  animals  we  saw  hurled  over  a 
precipice  and  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  below,  it 
would  be  greater  than  all  the  buffalo  now  living  in 
America.  As  I  have  stated,  it  was  the  result  of  a  most 
awful  accident— for  I  must  call  it  an  accident— it  being 
our  intention  to  kill  only  one  or  two  of  the  calves  for 
our  immediate  use. 

This  may  seem  incredible  to  the  uninitiated,  and  it 
is  a  reasonable  question  to  ask :  How  was  it  possible  to 
kill  so  many  buffaloes  unless  by  shooting  them?  It  hap- 


22  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

pened  in  one  of  those  incidents  where  success  results  in 
disappointment  and  regret,  for  such  were  the  feelings 
of  each  one  of  our  party,  and  all  looked  upon  it  as  the 
most  dreadful  occurrence  of  our  trip.  Had  the  Indians 
discovered  the  slaughtered  animals,  they  would,  probably, 
have  regarded  it  as  a  malicious  destruction  of  their 
lawful  property,  and  made  war  upon  the  pale-faces 
who  were  instrumental  in  such  a  wholesale  annihilation. 

On  our  journey  through  a  rough  part  of  the  mountains, 
where  there  was  but  little  water,  the  game  became  very 
scarce,  and  our  fresh  meat  was  reduced  to  a  very  small 
quantity.  Upon  nearing  the  foothills,  our  hopes  were 
again  raised  by  the  appearance  of  a  large  herd  of  buffaloes 
but  a  short  distance  ahead  of  us.  We  immediately  took 
steps  towards  securing  one  or  two  calves,  and  once  more 
replenish  our  supply.  It  was  suggested  that  I  should 
take  my  gun  and  cross  a  stream,  which  made  a  cut 
through  the  side  of  a  small  hill,  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  high  from  the  bed  of  a  creek.  On  three  sides 
of  this  hill  there  was  a  gentle  slope  to  the  top,  when 
there  was  about  an  acre  of  ground,  quite  flat. 

It  was  arranged  that  I  should  approach  the  herd  from 
one  side  of  the  hill,  and  one  of  my  companions  was  to 
take  up  a  position  on  the  opposite  side,  so  that  when  I 
fired  they  would  run  towards  him,  and  he  would  be  able 
to  get  a  shot  also.  I  started  off  feeling  quite  sure  that 
\v  would  soon  have  fresh  buffalo  meat.  Crossing  the 
stream,  I  crept  along,  under  cover  of  some  small  knolls, 
until  I  got  within  range  of  a  fine  buffalo  calf.  At  the 
crack  of  the  rifle  he  fell  to  the  ground,  giving  a  number 
of  blc;its.  which  brought  his  mother  to  his  side.  She,  on 
smelling  blood,  began  to  bellow  in  an  alarming  manner. 


A  Buffalo  Stampede.  23 

This  drew  the  attention  of  the  entire  herd  to  the  scene. 
The  sight  did  not  please  me,  for  some  of  the  old  bulls 
began  to  paw  the  ground  and  fight  among  themselves, 
and  I  became  alarmed  lest  I  should  not  get  my  fatted 
calf  after  all.  Thinking  to  frighten  them  away,  I  arose 
from  my  hiding-place,  making  as  much  noise  as  a  Sioux 
Indian  on  the  warpath ;  but  instead  of  frightening  them 
away,  they  only  stood  gazing  in  the  direction  of  the  noise. 
One  of  the  old  leaders  came  down  towards  me,  seemingly 
to  make  my  acquaintance;  but  I  did  not  appreciate  such 
friendship,  so  once  more  brought  my  gun  to  my  shoulder 
and  fired.  The  bullet  seemed  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  as 
to  who  or  what  I  was,  so,  with  a  snort,  he  whirled  around. 
This  was  a  signal  to  the  entire  herd,  for  they  started 
up  the  hill  at  full  speed,  with  their  tails  high  in  the  air. 
In  a  few  minutes  they  turned  in  the  direction  of  my 
friend,  who,  on  seeing  the  whole  herd  coming  toward 
him,  seemed  to  lose  his  head.  He  commenced  firing  his 
gun  and  swinging  his  coat,  and  in  this  way  he  was  suc- 
cessful in  turning  them  again  in  my  direction.  On  they 
came  in  an  immense  moving  body,  which  seemed  to  me 
would  trample  to  death  every  living  thing  which  hap- 
pened to  be  in  front  of  them.  Frightened  within  an  inch 
of  my  life,  for  I  had  not  time  enough  to  reach  a  place  of 
safety,  I  had  no  alternative  but  to  adopt  the  stratagem  of 
my  friend,  and  by  waving  my  coat  and  shouting  lustily  I 
succeeded  in  turning  the  leaders  of  the  herd,  and  they, 
on  turning  back,  ran  into  the  enraged  animals  behind 
them,  for  by  this  time  they  had  become  maddened  by 
the  smell  of  blood  and  the  firing  of  our  rifles.  There  they 
were,  struggling  and  fighting  in  their  attempts  to  pass 
each  other.  I  now  saw  a  chance  to  make  my  escape,  and 


24  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

ran  down  the  hill  and  across  the  creek,  for  fear  they 
should  a  £a  in  turn  in  my  direction.  My  fears  were  not 
realized,  for  the  furious  animals  had  now  made  a  move 
in  another  direction,  and  were  rushing  up  the  hill  towards 
the  piece  of  level  ground  on  the  top.  This  was  the  road 
to  destruction,  but  on  they  rushed,  mounting  the  high 
hill,  which  overlooked  the  creek,  and  which  terminated 
in  a  precipice. 

So  long  as  they  could  keep  running  they  did  not 
seem  to  fear,  or  care  whither  they  were  going,  but  I 
thought  they  must  surely  turn  on  coming  to  the  preci- 
pice. They  did  not  realize  what  was  before  them,  and 
what  would  be  the  result  if  their  headlong  course  was 
pursued. 

By  this  time  I  was  well  up  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  creek,  where  I  could  view  them  as  they  rushed  along. 
I  almost  held  my  breath  as  I  gazed,  and  thought,  "Why 
do  they  not  stop?  Will  they  attempt  to  leap  over  that 
fearful  precipice?"  My  thoughts  were  only  too  closely 
followed  by  the  animals  themselves,  for  as  they  neared 
the  edge,  they  showed  no  signs  of  making  a  halt.  The 
end  had  now  come. 

As  the  animals  in  front  came  to  the  brink,  there  was 
no  chance  for  them  to  stop,  for  the  moving  mass  behind 
kept  crowding  them  over,  until  the  air  was  full  of  the 
falling  buffaloes,  and  as  they  came  down  on  the  jagged 
rocks  about  a  hundred  feet  below,  there  was  a  continual 
thud  and  crackling  as  they  rolled  down  to  the  creek. 
Such  a  terrible  sight  I  cannot  describe.  When  they 
struck  the  rocks,  life  seemed  to  be  knocked  out  of  them, 
I'm-  by  the  time  they  rolled  into  the  creek  not  a  move 
was  made  by  any  one  of  them ;  and  there  they  remained, 


A     BUFFALO     STAMPEDE. 


26  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

a  huge  mass  of  mangled  bodies.  There  must  have  been 
fully  two  hundred  of  those  noble  animals,  piled  in  a 
lifeless  mass  at  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  and  as  we  gazed 
at  the  terrible  scene  of  destruction,  it  almost  made  the 
t<>ars  come  to  the  eyes  of  our  entire  party. 

No  animal  which  has  trod  American  soil  has  afforded 
so  much  relief  to  the  pioneer  as  the  buffalo.  He  with- 
stood the  storms,  and  was  seemingly  ever  ready  to  be 
slaughtered  without  much  effort  on  the  part  of  the 
hunter,  and  to  furnish  meat  for  the  adventurer  who  left 
all  traces  of  civilization  behind,  and  made  his  home  where 
domestic  herds  were  never  seen. 


LOCATING    A    COLONY. 

PART     I— A     PRAIRIE     FIRE. 

In  the  year  1868,  the  employes  of 'the  Union  Pacific 
Railway  Company  at  Omaha  organized  themselves  into 
a  body  for  the  purpose  of  locating  a  colony.  Three  men 
were  chosen  for  their  explorers;  one  to  go  west  into 
Nebraska,  one  into  Eastern  Dakota,  and  the  other  into 
Kans-is.  I  was  assigned  to  the  latter  place,  and  after 
some  preliminary  work,  took  my  credentials  and  started 
on  my  journey,  accompanied  only  by  a  large  horse,  whose 
duly  it  was  to  carry  me  across  the  plains,  a  distance  of 
over  two  hundred  miles. 

I  took  with  me  a  letter  from  the  Mayor  of  Omaha 
to  the  Governor  of  Nebraska,  who,  in  turn,  was  to  give 
me  an  order  to  the  state  militia,  stationed  at  the  head- 
waters of  the  Republican  River,  in  Kansas,  and  from  that 
point  I  was  to  have  an  escort  to  accompany  me  to  the 
frontier.  The  Indians  at  that  time  were  reported  as  being: 


Locating  a  Colony.  27 

on  the  warpath  in  the  vicinity  which  I  proposed  visiting. 
This  I  learned  from  a  scout  who  had  made  a  number  of 
trips  to  the  frontier.  He  informed  me,  also,  of  a  beautiful 
valley,  which  the  Indians  guarded  with  considerable  jeal- 
ousy, and  made  war  upon  the  pale-faces  who  dared  to 
intrude  upon  their  hunting-grounds.  These  tales,  how- 
ever, did  not  alter  my  mind,  for  I  had  determined  to 
fulfill  my  mission  under  any  circumstances,  my  whole  aim 
being  to  secure  the  best  location. 

Notwithstanding  my  firm  intentions,  I  naturally  re- 
flected a  good  deal  on  what  I  might  encounter  during  the 
next  few  weeks  in  that  new  country,  and  often  concluded 
that  I  might  be  on  a  wild-goose  chase,  after  all.  Arriving 
at  Lincoln,  and  getting  my  order  to  the  militia,  I  left  the 
following  morning,  feeling  that  my  journey  had  begun 
in  earnest.  I  rode  along  very  slowly,  as  my  road  was 
simply  a  trail  through  the  long  prairie  grass,  having  only 
been  trodden  by  a  few  frontiersmen,  probably  bent  on  a 
similar  mission. 

Along  in  the  afternoon  I  noticed  the  smoke  from  a 
prairie  fire  in  the  distance,  and  which  seemed  to  have 
been  burning  for  some  time,  judging  from  the  large  tracts 
of  burnt  ground  which  lay  to  the  east.  The  fire  in  the 
distance  appeared  quite  insignificant  to  me  at  that  time; 
nevertheless,  the  thought  of  those  broad  prairies,  with 
such  a  tall  growth  of  grass,  being  once  on  fire  and  fanned 
by  a  high  wind,  which  often  prevails  in  that  country  in 
the  fall  of  the  year,  would  occasionally  flash  through  my 
mind.  When  night  overtook  me,  I  spread  my  blankets 
on  the  bank  of  a  small  creek,  my  wrist  acting  as  a  picket 
pin  for  my  horse.  The  night  moved  slowly,  and  many 
times  I  raised  myself  to  look  around  and  satisfy  myself 


28  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

that  my  horse  was  still  with  me.  As  the  small  hours 
came,  the  skies  began  to  lighten  in  the  east  and  west  from 
the  prairie  fires,  which  had  been  burning  slowly  in  the 
afternoon,  but  were  now  being  fanned  by  the  wind  that 
had  sprung  up  during  the  night.  Before  morning  I  began 
to  think  that  it  might  be  possible  that  I  should  experience 
the  much-dreaded  prairie  fires,  which  I  had  often  heard 
described  by  scouts  and  ranchmen  as  being  the  dread  of 
the  plains. 

At  early  dawn  I  packed  my  blankets,  saddled  my 
horse  and  started  on  my  journey  again.  I  intended  to 
make  my  next  stopping  point  at  a  small  creek,  about 
forty  miles  distant,  where  I  could  obtain  water. 

The  fires  meanwhile  were  coming  nearer  and  growing 
larger  every  minute,  and  it  was  then  that  the  thought  of 
being  chased  by  the  prairie  fires  appeared  worse  to  my 
mind  than  being  chased  by  wolves  in  Russia.  I  lost  no 
time  in  pushing  my  willing  horse  towards  my  only  point 
of  safety,  but  as  the  sun  rose  so  did  the  wind,  which  had 
fanned  the  flames  from  an  insignificant  blaze  to  a  wild, 
roaring  sheet  of  fire,  spreading  for  many  miles  both  to 
the  right  and  left. 

By  nine  o'clock  matters  had  assumed  a  serious  aspect. 
The  fire  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  showered  its  smoke 
and  heat  down  upon  my  poor,  panting  horse.  It  was 
evident  we  were  not  to  gain  our  point  of  safety  before 
the  flames  would  overtake  us.  After  glancing  around  a 
few  times,  I  became  satisfied  that  to  escape  the  impending 
peril,  it  was  necessary  to  start  a  fire  of  my  own,  and  as 
soon  as  the  grass  was  burnt,  get  my  panting  steed  on  the 
burnt  ground,  and  wait  for  the  main  body  of  the  flames 
to"  sweep  past. 


Locating  a  Colony.  29 

I  pulled  up  my  horse,  dismounted,  lit  a  fire,  and  waited 
in  the  dense  cloud  of  smoke  and  heat  until  the  grass 
would  burn.  I  did  not  have  long  to  wait,  for  the  long 
grass  quickly  burst  into  fierce  flames  and  rushed  on  with 
the  wind.  I  mounted  my  horse,  intending  to  ride  through 
the  back  fire,  but  as  the  animal  seemed  to  understand  the 
danger  we  were  in,  he  became  very  nervous  and  highly 
excited,  and  as  we  approached  the  heat,  all  my  urging 
failed  to  make  him  leap  through  the  flames  on  to  burnt 
ground.  I  finally  blindfolded  him  and  spurred  him  on 
again,  but  it  was  of  no  avail,  as  he  would  rear  and  snort 
on  approaching  the  flames  and  refuse  to  go  further. 
Further  delay  being  dangerous,  I  galloped  around  the 
burning  grass  I  had  lit,  thinking  I  might  come  to  some 
place  where  I  could  save  my  horse,  for  I  knew  he  could 
hold  out  but  a  short  time  longer.  Whatever  was  to  be 
done,  must  be  done  quickly,  for  I  could  feel  him  sway 
under  my  weight  and  the  intense  heat.  I  again  dis- 
mounted and  started  another  fire,  but  with  the  same 
results  as  before.  Remounting,  I  decided  to  ride  him  as 
long  as  he  could  hold  out,  and  then  I  would  be  obliged 
to  leave  him  and  look  towards  my  own  safety.  As  I  rode 
along,  I  discovered  a  buffalo  trail,  which  enabled  me  to 
build  a  fire,  without  having  the  back  fire  to  contend  with, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  on  burnt  ground  and  fol- 
lowing up  the  burning  grass.  By  this  time  the  main 
body  of  the  fire,  together  with  the  fires  I  had  lit,  came 
rushing  down  upon  us  with  such  fierce  heat  that  it  seemed 
as  if  we  must  perish  in  the  flames  or  be  suffocated  with 
the  smoke. 

By  breathing  through  a  handful  of  earth,  I  could  get 


30  jfceminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

some  little  relief.  My  poor  horse  reeled  from  side  to  side, 
like  a  drunken  man,  and  finally  dropped  down. 

However,  the  battle  against  the  flames  at  this  point- 
was  short,  though  fierce,  and  the  flames  swept  past.  My 
now  exhausted  animal  was  unable  to  go  any  further,  so 
1  started  out  on  foot,  taking-  a  small  quantity  of  buffalo 
meat,  with  some  crackers  and  cheese,  as  provisions. 

On  going  over  the  burnt  ground,  I  could  see  numerous 
birds  and  animals,  burnt  to  crisps,  unable  to  escape  the 
flames. 

After  walkirg  about  an  hour  and  a  half,  I  came  10  a 
small  cabin  on  the  bank  of  a  creek.  A  most  sorrowful 
picture  met  my  gaze.  Everything  but  the  cabin  was  still 
burning,  and  as  I  approached  I  could  hear  some  one  sob- 
bing. On  going  to  the  door,  I  saw  there  a  poor  woman, 
with  two  little  children  clinging  to  her  dress  and  crying 
very  pitifully.  At  my  approach,  they  seemed  very  much 
frightened;  for  I  had  become  so  blackened  from  the 
smoke  that  my  appearance  was  more  like  a  negro  than 
a  white  man.  I  assured  them  that  the  worst  was  over, 
and  asked  for  a  bucket  of  water  for  my  horse,  which  she 
gave  me.  I  listened  to  the  poor  woman's  story,  in  which 
she  told  me  that  her  husband  had  gone  to  Salean  with 
a  grist  of  wheat,  and  that  she  was  afraid  he  was  burnt 
to  death.  She  was  very  anxious  that  I  should  go  in  search 
of  him,  which  I  agreed  to  do,  after  I  had  carried  the  wrater 
in  my  horse.  This  latter  undertaking  was  a  much  harder 
task  than  I  at  first  imagined,  for  it  was  a  long  distance. 
At  last  I  reached  the  weary  animal,  and  as  I  approached 
In-  saw  the  bucket,  and  gave  a  longing  whinny,  and. 
t lirust iny  his  nose  down  to  the  bottom  of  it,  drank  Avith 
•jr«  at  ragvnn-ss.  I  then  started  back  to  the  house,  leading 


32  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

my  horse,  and  arrived  there  after  sundown,  feeling  as  if 
I  could  not  take  one  more  step.  I  laid  my  blankets  down, 
but,  tired  as  I  was,  could  not  sleep  for  the  cries  of  the 
poor  woman  I  rose  about  three  o'clock  next  morning 
and  started  out  on  foot  in  the  direction  she  had  given 
me,  in  search  of  her  husband.  I  had  gone  about  fifteen 
miles,  when  I  came  to  a  wagon,  but  no  sign  of  a  horse  or 
man  could  I  see  in  any  direction.  Leaving  the  road,  I 
crossed  the  Republican  River  and  found  the  horses  about 
two  miles  beyond  where  I  had  crossed.  Leading  the 
horses  back  to  the  wagon,  I  hitched  them  up— for  they 
still  had  the  harness  on— and  after  driving  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  house  for  about  five  miles,  I  saw  what  appeared 
to  be  a  man,  walking  over  the  burnt  grass  toward  me. 
In  due  time  he  came  up.  He  was  the  owner  of  the  team. 
In  a  few  words  I  told  him  what  had  happened.  He  seemed 
very  much  affected,  and  as  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks, 
I  could  not  hide  my  own  tears  from  him  as  he  told  me 
how  he  had  toiled  and  of  the  privations  he  had  under- 
gone to  make  a  home  for  his  wife  and  family,  and  now 
he  was  left  with  only  what  was  in  his  wagon. 

On  returning  to  the  house,  he  and  his  wife  thanked 
God  for  having  spared  their  lives.  That  evening,  as  I 
listened  to  their  tales  of  their  hardships  and  experience 
on  the  frontier,  I  became  rather  discouraged  with  the 
colony  enterprise,  and  had  it  not  been  for  my  resolutions 
in  the  beginning  and  my  determination  to  see  the  place 
I  was  bound  for,  I  would  have  gladly  backed  out  and  let 
the  colony  be  located  by  some  one  else. 

In  the  morning  I  started  out  on  foot,  as  my  horse  was 
completely  broken  down  from  his  sufferings.  I  had  about 
eighty  miles  to  walk  before  I  could  reach  the  militia.  On 


Locating  a  Colony.  33 

the  third  day  I  arrived  at  my  destination,  somewhat  tired, 
but  was  soon  rested. 

I  presented  my  orders  for  an  escort,  and,  with  seven 
soldiers  and  two  wagons  and  saddle-horses,  we  started 
for  what  was  knowTn  as  the  Limestone  and  White  Rock 
country.  After  about  a  week's  journey,  we  arrived  at 
the  point  for  which  I  had  started,  and  after  surveying 
the  country  thoroughly  and  making  the  necessary  notes, 
we  turned  our  attention  to  killing  buffalo,  which  were 
very  numerous.  One  could  look  in  all  directions,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  see  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  these  noble  animals  of  the  plains.  Today  there  are 
but  few  left. 

The  pioneers  used  this  buffalo  meat  instead  of  beef, 
and  it  was  called  jerked  buffalo.  To  prepare  this,  the 
meat  was  cut  into  long  strips,  thoroughly  salted,  and 
hung  over  a  slow,  smoking  fire  until  thoroughly  cured, 
then  packed  into  the  wagon  boxes. 

We  found  three  ponies  and  two  mules,  which  we 
thought  had  strayed  from  some  frontiersman.  Could  our 
eyes  have  beheld  what  was  then  taking  place  a  few  miles 
away,  undoubtedly  our  blood  would  have  stood  still  at 
the  sight;  for  while  we  were  killing  and  drying  buffalo 
meat,  the  Indians  were  massacreing  a  party  of  surveyors 
only  six  miles  from  our  camp,  and  to  whom  the  ponies 
and  mules  found  by  us  had  belonged. 

We  were  surprised  to  find,  during  our  stay,  that  the 
man  in  charge  of  supplies  had  failed  to  take  a  sufficient 
supply  of  flour,  and  that  therefore  we  would  have  to  live 
on  jerked  buffalo  meat  for  the  remainder  of  our  journey, 
which  would  take  at  least  nine  days.  We  succeeded  very 


34  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

we'll  in  this  respect,  with  the  exception  that  our  teeth 
became  very  painful  from  chewing  the  dried  meat. 

On  arriving  at  the  settlement,  we  made  the  acquain- 
tance of  a  nice  German  ladjr,  who,  having  heard  of  our 
condition,  cooked  some  nice  chickens  with  dumplings, 
mashed  potatoes,  raised  biscuits  and  butter.  I  think  this 
was  the  best  meal  I  ever  ate. 

On  leaving  the  settlement,  I  pushed  on  toward  home; 
and  in  due  time  arrived  safely,  without  any  further  ad- 
ventures on  the  return  trip. 

The  news  of  the  massacre  of  the  surveying  party  by 
the  Indians  had  created  quite  an  excitement  before  my 
arrival,  and  many  rumors  had  been  circulated  regarding 
my  safety. 

The  other  explorers,  who  had  started  out  at  the  same 
date  as  myself,  had  returned  with  glowing  accounts  of  a 
beautiful  valley,  much  nearer  and  accompanied  with  less 
danger  than  in  the  direction  I  had  taken. 


LOCATING   A    COLONY. 

PART     II— A     NEBRASKA     BLIZZARD. 

When  I  returned  from  the  Limestone  and  White  Rock 
country,  it  was  too  late  to  go  and  take  possession  of  our 
proposed  new  homes,  which  we  were  day  by  day  picturing 
in  our  minds  as  a  thriving  city,  and  hoping  that  in  the 
near  future  it  would  be  one  of  the  many  prosperous 
frontier  settlements  of  which  Nebraska  was  boasting  at 
that  time.  Few  of  us  knew  what  it  meant  to  go  many 
miles  away  from  a  settlement  and  start,  as  many  of  us 
intended,  with  the  savings  of  a  few  months,  and  expect 
to  be  able  to  cope  with  older  and  richer  places.  We 


Locating  a  Colony.  35 

could  not  fail  to  see  what  had  been  done  by  our  neighbors, 
who  were  still  living  examples  of  what  courage  and  energy 
could  do. 

We  therefore  looked  forward  with  great  impatience 
to  the  day  on  which  we  might  start  our  teams  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  promised  land. 

Our  government  about  this  time  passed  the  Homestead 
Act,  granting  each  American  citizen  one  hundred  and 
sixty  acres  of  land  as  his  own,  if  he  would  improve  and 
live  upon  it. 

On  the  10th  day  of  April,  1869,  we  started  for  the1 
land  of  our  dreams.  The  first  four  days  of  our  journey 
were  uneventful,  but  on  the  fifth  day,  as  we  neared  the 
chosen  lands,  the  excitement  ran  high.  Numbers  of  our 
party  desired  to  rush  ahead  and  secure  the  most  desirable 
locations,  and  several  severe  reprimands  were  necessary 
to  keep  down  the  wild  enthusiasm ;  finally  we  rounded  up 
the  would-be  deserters,  and  all  agreed  to  camp  for  the 
night.  In  the  morning  it  was  agreed  to  lay  out  a  town- 
site,  and  then  to  survey  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of 
land  for  each  man,  and  all  to  draw  lots  for  choice.  As 
night  came  on,  the  wind  rose  steadily,  and  by  morning 
of  the  next  day  was  blowing  a  perfect  gale.  It  was  very 
plain  to  me  that  we  were  soon  to  have  the  experience  of 
encountering  a  blizzard,  for  which  Nebraska  has  a  national 
reputation,  producing  them  in  all  their  playful  moods. 

I  urged  that  immediate  steps  be  taken  to  meet  our 
formidable  foe  and  prepare  for  the  worst.  The  wagons 
were  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  a  circle,  making  the  famous 
" wagon  corral,"  into  which  we  drove  our  animals.  We 
had  commenced  to  make  bread  and  bake  beans,  to  last  us 
through  the  blizzard,  when  the  storm  struck  us  with  all 


36  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

its  fury.  Some  of  our  party  had  gone  out  for  wood  to 
the  neighboring  forest,  which  was  but  a  short  distance 
away,  and  it  was  proposed  to  take  the  wagons  and  stock 
to  it  for  shelter,  but  the  ascent  to  the  timber  was  so  steep 
that  this  was  rendered  impossible.  Before  the  fuel-gath- 
erers had  returned  with  a  supply,  the  snow  began  to  fall 
in  large  flakes,  which,  melting,  wet  everything  it  touched. 
Our  efforts  to  cook  were  unsuccessful,  and  all  hopes  for 
a  warm  meal  were  abandoned.  In  less  than  an  hour,  our 
stock  was  huddled  up,  shivering  with  the  cold.  The  five 
preceding  days  had  been  as  warm  as  June  weather.  Our 
whole  attention  was  now  turned  toward  our  stock,  the 
snow  falling  more  heavily  every  moment  and  the  cold 
growing  more  intense. 

We  tried  rubbing  the  animals,  to  lessen  their  suffer- 
ings, but  long  before  night  we  became  convinced  that 
other  methods  must  be  adopted,  or  our  stock  would 
perish.  One  by  one,  we  went  to  our  wagons,  drew  out 
our  blankets  and  covered  our  animals.  One  of  the  party 
tried  other  means,  by  exercising  his  animals  outside  the 
corral,  but  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  he  succeeded 
in  finding  his  way  back.  By  this  time,  both  the  earth 
and  sea  seemed  to  be  flying  through  the  air,  and  a  man 
would  not  have  been  able  to  recognize  his  wagon  ten  feet 
away.  One  may  as  well  try  to  face  an  Iowa  or  Wisconsin 
cyclone  as  to  face  a  Nebraska  or  Dakota  blizzard,  and  the 
one  we  were  now  trying  to  brave  out  had  become  full- 
grown,  and  demanded  the  earth,  which  request  was 
granted,  so  far  as  we  were  concerned. 

As  night  came  on,  every  crack  in  our  wagons  was 
filled  with  snow,  arid  when  we  crawled  under  cover  we 
realized  the  need  of  the  blankets,  which  we  had  shared 


Locating  a  Colony.  37 

with  our  stock.  The  wind  blew  a  gale.  It  seemed  to 
pick  up  each  wagon,  shake  it  and  throw  it  down— then 
go  to  the  next  and  do  likewise.  At  daybreak,  the  man 
on  watch  cried  out,  "All  alive,  except  Murphy's  rooster." 
He  had  perished  during  the  night.  The  second  day  was 
spent  in  trying  to  keep  warm,  but  with  very  unsatis- 
factory results.  The  stock  began  to  show  the  effects  of 
cold  and  hunger.  Many  suggestions  were  forthcoming, 
but  at  length  we  decided  to  wrap  the  animals'  limbs  with 
whatever  we  could  find,  for  we  all  realized  the  importance 
of  saving  the  stock.  We  went  to  work  with  a  will,  as 
we  saw  that  the  poor  creatures  could  not  survive  much 
longer,  unless  afforded  relief  in  some  way  or  other. 

We  used  old  pantaloons,  overalls,  and  even  our  spare 
underclothing,  to  wrap  the  limbs  of  the  shivering  brutes, 
and  they  seemed  to  appreciate  our  efforts  on  their  behalf. 
Horses  and  mules,  dressed  in  pantaloons,  presented  a 
ludicrous  sight.  When  we  crept  into  our  wagons  the 
second  night,  I,  for  one,  had  lost  considerable  enthusiasm, 
and  would  have  sold  my  interest  in  the  colony  for  a  square 
meal  and  a  good  bed.  The  night  was  colder,  and,  if 
possible,  the  wind  blew  harder  than  before. 

I  almost  regretted  my  generosity  to  my  four-footed 
fellow-sufferers.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  the 
snow  seemed  to  have  spent  itself,  but  the  wind  continued 
to  blow  the  drifting  snow  in  our  faces,  and  it  kept  us 
chilled  to  the  very  center  of  our  bodies.  Not  until  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  were  we  enabled  to  cook  some 
warm  food.  During  the  three  days  of  the  storm,  \ve  had 
eaten  nothing  but  crackers,  cheese  and  sardines. 

The  next  morning  the  sun  rose  in 'all  its  glory,  bright 
and  shining  upon  the  snow,  which  was  piled  mountains 


38  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

high,  and  which  caused  our  entire  party  to  suffer  from 
snow-blindness.  We  had  to  blacken  our  faces  to  keep 
from  becoming  blind  entirely. 

The  snow  was  so  deep  that  we  could  not  move  our 
teams  for  five  days,  and  then  very  slowly.  During  this 
time  we  had  la*id  out  our  town,  while  traveling  through 
the  snow-drifts,  and  located  our  homesteads,  and  by  the 
time  the  snow  had  melted,  we  had  laid  the  foundations 
of  our  new  homes. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  I  could  not  help  asking 
myself  if  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  fight  fire,  face  bliz- 
zards, equalize  myself  with  dumb  animals,  share  my  bed- 
ding and  underclothing  with  horses  and  mules;  and  after 
due  deliberation,  with  plenty  of  experience  and  very  little 
profit,  I  said  to  myself,  "Travel  on,  old  man— you  can't 
do  worse,"  and  so  I  am  still  going. 

Twelve  years  later,  while  on  a. trip  to  the  gold  fields 
in  Dakota,  I  visited  the  colony  and  found  a  fine  town, 
with  a  flourishing  community.  It  is  now  called  Crighton, 
Nebraska. 

My  old  pioneer  friends  gave  me  a  very  hearty  welcome, 
and  had  many  tales  of  interest  to  tell.  On  leaving  them 
once  more,  they  presented  me  with  a  history  of  their 
interesting  little  city. 


SOUR  BREAD  OR  NO  BREAD. 

While  on  a  trip  before  mentioned,  we  had  an  experi- 
ence whereby  we  succeeded  in  finding  out  the  true  char- 
acter of  a  mule. 

Few  people  live  long  enough  to  learn  all  the  char- 
acteristics of  a  mule.  When  one  thinks  he  has  solved  all 


Sour  Bread  or  No  Bread.  39 

the  peculiarities  pertaining  to  a  mule,  it  is  then  that  this 
long-eared,  big-headed  and  small-footed  animal  can  show 
him  that  he  is  just  in  his  infancy  of  understanding. 

In  my  opinion,  one  can  easier  solve  Jay  Gould's  tricks 
on  the  New  York  stock  market  and  become  a  millionaire, 
than  learn  all  the  tricks  of  a  real,  first-class,  frontier 
pack-mule. 

Unlike  most  other  animals,  he  studies  his  business  and 
profits  by  experience.  A  good  mule  can  tell  you  when 
the  redskins  are  in  the  neighborhood;  he  can  tell  you 
where  there  is  water,  and  he  can  smell  danger  in  any 
form.  In  fact,  he  acts  as  a  barometer  to  the  pioneer, 
and  if  we  had  consulted  that  ungainly  head  oftener,  it 
would  have  saved  us  lots  of  trouble  and  annoyance.  When 
you  go  back  beyond  his  praises  and  try  to  drive  him 
against  his  judgment,  then  comes  the  "cussedness"  of 
his  race.  Nature  says,  the  mule  is  either  perfect,  or  is 
such  a  disgrace  to  the  animal  kingdom  that  they  never 
propagate. 

We  cannot,  then,  say  what  mules  would  become,  if 
they  were  as  prolific  as  other  animals. 

At  the  particular  time  of  which  I  now  write,  our  flour 
was  packed  on  the  back  of  a  large  black  mule,  which  I 
have  spoken  of  before  in  one  of  the  incidents  of  that  trip. 
We  all  considered  him  the  safest  animal  to  carry  such  a 
precious  burden ;  for  the  pioneer  guards  his  flour,  and 
looks  upon  it  as  he  does  his  rifle,  for  without  either  it 
would  become  impossible  to  make  headway  in  a  new 
country,  far  from  any  settlement,  and  not  knowing  what 
is  before  him. 

We  felt  that  in  case  of  an  attack  by  the  Indians  our 
mule  would  be  the  last  to  surrender  his  burden. 


40  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

In  passing  through  a  desert  part  of  the  country,  we 
suffered  to  a  great  extent  from  want  of  water,  having 
been  without  this  precious  fluid  of  nature  for  over  thirty 
hours.  To  be  in  an  alkali  country,  where  there  is  very 
little  vegetation,  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  year,  and 
without  water,  is  a  painful  situation,  and  the  reader  can 
but  vaguely  imagine  our  sufferings.  We  had  separated, 
and  were  a  considerable  distance  apart  in  our  search  for 
some  small  stream  or  creek,  but,  from  the  indications  of 
the  country,  there  seemed  but  little  hope  that  we  would 
be  successful.  Our  sufferings  had  become  indescribable, 
and  if  it  had  been  in  the  power  of  any  one  of  us  to  give 
away  the  universe  for  a  few  drops  of  water,  such  a  sacri- 
fice would  have  been  made  only  too  readily.  I  have  often 
thought  of  our  sufferings,  and  tried  to  explain  the  misery 
and  utter  helplessness  which  one  feels  when  in  want  of 
water.  We  had  reached  a  point  and  were  in  such  a 
condition  that  we  had  given  up  in  despair  all  hopes  of 
being  able  to  survive,  unless  we  should  find  water  within 
a  few  hours.  I  had  not  taken  notice  that  "Old  Slasher," 
as  we  called  the  black  mule,  began  to  quicken  his  step 
and  then  broke  into  a  fast  trot,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had 
passed  out  of  sight.  The  mule  had  been  following  an  old 
buffalo  trail,  and  had  traveled  some  distance  ahead, 
while  I  was  climbing  a  small  hill,  in  order  to  get  a  view 
of  the  surrounding  country  and  note  any  indications  of  a 
stream.  At  this  hurried  movement  on  the  part  of  the 
mule  I  became  very  much  annoyed.  I  watched  him  disap- 
pear, and  there  was  no  alternative  for  me  but  to  follow 
him. 

After  running  about  half  a  mile,  and  no  sign  of  the 
mule,  I  suddenly  came  upon  a  most  beautiful  stream  of 


Sour  Bread  or  No  Bread.  41 

clear  spring  water,  about  eight  feet  deep  and  fifteen  feet 
wide,  and  there,  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  was  that 
fool  of  a  mule,  drinking  as  if  he  intended  to  drink  the 
stream  dry.  I  have  heard  the  story  of  the  old  horse  who 
swam  the  river  to  get  a  drink,  and  here  was  a  mule  who 
took  a  lesson  from  the  old  horse.  I  did  not  make  any 
effort  to  get  him  out  until  after  I  had  quenched  my  thirst. 
On  coming  to  the  water,  I  immediately  gave  the  signal 
that  water  was  found,  by  firing  two  shots  in  quick  suc- 
cession, then  threw  myself  down  at  the  water's  edge  and 
drank  and  drank  again.  It  seemed  as  though  I  could  not 
drink  enough,  and  as  I  lay  there  drinking,  one  of  my 
companions  came  up,  who  seemed  to  be  suffering  more 
than  any  of  us.  His  lips  were  swollen  in  a  frightful 
manner,  his  eyes  dilated,  and  his  tongue  protruding  from 
his  mouth.  On  seeing  the  water,  he  seemed  to  lose  what 
little  reason  he  had  left,  and  commenced  to  cry  like  a 
child.  In  a  few  minutes  the  other  members  of  the  party 
came  up,  and  were  soon  drinking  the  draught  of  life. 
After  satisfying  our  thirst,  our  attention  was  attracted 
to  the  mule,  who  was  swimming  about  in  the  stream.  On 
his  back  was  our  supply  of  flour.  The  poor  animal,  in  his 
eagerness  to  get  at  the  water,  had  slipped  down  the  bank, 
and  was  now  unable  to  get  out  again.  He  Aad  drank  so 
much  water  that  his  body  was  swollen,  and  the  straps 
holding  the  pack  were  so  tight  that  we  had  some  difficulty 
in  getting  them  loose.  We  found  that  the  flour  was 
almost  entirely  wet  through ;  there  being  only  a  very  little 
in  the  middle  of  each  sack  which  was  dry.  This  was  a 
very  serious  matter  to  us,  but,  fortunately,  we  had  about 
a  sack,  which  we  had  been  using,  on  one  of  the  other 
animals.  There  were  a  good  many  suggestions  forth- 


42  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

coming  as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done  with  the  wet  flour. 
As  we  took  the  dough  out  of  the  sacks,  each  man  looked 
as  though  he  had  lost  his  best  friend.  We  kneaded  the 
wet  Hour,  and  rolled  it  very  thin,  and  by  laying  it  on  flat 
stones  it  soon  became  perfectly  dry.  When  we  wanted 
to  make  bread,  this  dry  dough  was  wet  up  again  and 
baked. 

This  was  a  very  poor  substitute  for  bread,  and  it 
became  sour  and  would  not  rise  in  baking,  but  our  tem- 
pers rose  whenever  we  tried  to  swallow  it.  If  that  poor 
mule  could  have  understood  what  was  said  in  trying  to 
eat  this  sour  mixture,  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  have 
concluded  to  go  and  live  with  the  Sioux  Indians  rather 
than  take  chances  where  there  was  so  much  growling  over 
some  wet  dough. 

After  this  incident,  the  mule  was  looked  upon  as  a 
bad  animal,  and  he  had  not  a  friend  in  the  crowd.  We 
seemed  to  forget  that  he  had  been  the  means  of  bringing 
us  to  the  water,  which  had  saved  our  lives.  Each  man 
felt  as  if  he  owed  him  a  whipping,  but  was  always  waiting 
for  some  reasonable  excuse  to  do  so,  until  one  morning 
the  opportunity  presented  itself  to  inflict  the  chastise- 
ment. On  going  to  the  bacon  sack,  I  discovered*  that  Mr. 
.Mule  had  been  helping  himself.  Not  satisfied  with  the 
earth  to  graze  upon,  he  must  needs  make  an  attack  on 
oiii-  short  supply  of  bacon  to  appease  his  enormous 
appetite. 

On  milking*  the  fact  known  to  my  comrades,  I  expected 
that  poor  Slasher's  time  had  come  at  last.  But  this  mule 
w;is  no  fool,  and  seemed  to  know  there  was  danger  in 
the  air;  for  when  we  got  ready  to  pack  up,  he  for  the  first 
time  on  the  trip,  did  not  take  his  place  as  usual,  but 


Buffalo's  Lament.  43 

kept  at  a  respectful  distance,  evidently  waiting  until  we 
would  calm  down  before  allowing  himself  to  be  caught. 
If  any  one  of  us  could  have  laid  hands  on  him  at  that 
time,  there  would  have  been  a  settlement  of  old  scores. 
With  all  his  faults  and  tricks,  he  was  ever  ready,  and 
never  failed  to  carry  his  pack ;  and  indeed  he  did  not  seem 
to  know  his  strength. 


BUFFALO'S    LAMENT. 

Oh,  you  hunters,  proud  of  gore! 

Their  homes  you've  come  to,  as  of  yore, 
Not  content  to  slay  for  food, 

But  to  fell  them,  all  that  stood. 

Not  that  they  had  ever  wronged  you, 
For  they  knew  but  storms  to  fight; 

None  to  feed  them,  none  to  guard  them, 
All  to  charge  them  in  their  plight. 

You  call  it  sport,  you  heartless  beings; 

They  should  look  for  succor  there, 
But  alas,   'twas  you  who  slew  them 

For  the  robes  that  they  did  wear. 

Would  to  God  that  he  had  placed  them 
In  plains  too  wide  for  you  to  cross; 

Had  but  left  them  to  the  savage, 
And  not  the  legions  of  the  cross. 

Once  their  homes,  their  lands  so  free, 
Once  the  play-ground  of  their  millions; 

Now  is  left  not  one  to  see, 

Of  these  herds  and  their  destiny. 

This  is  but  an  act  of  Nature, 

As  in  her  onward  course  she  flies, 

While  the  strong  arm  of  the  Nation 
Wipes  from  earth  these  noble  ties. 


44  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

THE    DOWNFALL    OF    BIG    STEVE. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  sixties,  while  connected 
with  the  N.  P.  R.  R.,  I  became  acquainted  with  a  man  by 
the  name  of  Steven  Stokes.  He  was  a  good  mechanic 
and  while  sober  was  a  good  companion.  We  became 
quite  warm  friends  and  I  called  on  him  at  his  home  a 
number  of  times.  He  had  a  noble  little  wife  and  two 
bright  children,  of  which  he  should  have  been  proud. 
However,  he  would  at  times  take  too  much  liquor,  and 
while  under  its  influence  he  became  a  perfect  demon, 
and  would  quarrel  with  his  best  friend. 

One  day  he  came  to  me  after  one  of  his  sprees  and 
said  he  was  going  out  on  the  road  and  wanted  me  to 
join  him,  which  I  declined  to  do.  Some  months  later  I 
was  in  Laramie,  Wyoming,  where  I  was  called  on  by 
the  railroad  men  to  join  in  a  movement  to  avenge  the  life 
of  one  of  the  railroad  employees,  who  had  been  most 
brutally  murdered  for  a  few  paltry  dollars  which  he  had 
earned  by  long  hours  of  hard  work  along  the  line  of  the 
road. 

Outlawry  had  come  to  such  a  state  that  it  was  not 
safe  for  one  to  leave  his  car  after  night,  and  almost 
every  night  one  or  two  men  were  knocked  down  and 
robbed  while  going  to  or  coming  from  their  quarters. 
The  railroad  men  had  formed  a  vigilance  committee  to 
secure  safety  to  the  railroad  men  and  property. 

I  was  told  that  Big  Steve  was  at  the  head  of  the  gang 
that  was  waylaying  whoever  they  suspected  of  having 
any  money.  Upon  asking  who  this  Big  Steve  was,  to  my 
great  surprise  I  was  told  that  he  was  a  carbuilder  from 
Omaha.  I  told  the  foreman  I  could  not  take  any  part  in 
the  affair,  as  I  had  worked  with  him  in  the  Omaha  shops, 


The  Downfall  of  Big  Steve.  45 

and  thought  that  some  other  method  might  be  used  than 
what  I  felt  was  in  store  for  the  men  who  had  so  brutally 
assailed  the  railroad  men.  Had  it  not  been  for  a  number 
of  good  friends  of  mine  who  explained  my  position,  the 
boys  might  have  handled  me  rather  roughly,  but  I  was 
excused  and  told  to  keep  out  of  sight,  which  I  was  glad 
to  do. 

During  the  following  two  hours  the  cold  drops  of 
perspiration  ran  over  iny  face,  for  I  knew  too  well  the 
nature  of  their  mission  and  also  the  kind  of  man  they 
had  to  deal  with,  for  Stokes  was  not  much  less  than  a 
giant,  standing  six  feet  five  and  a  half  inches  in  his 
stocking  feet,  and  anything  but  a  coward. 

As  this  band  of  staunch  wage  earners  and  justice 
dealers  started  forth,  I  listened  with  bated  breath  to  hear 
the  sound  of  the  battle  which  I  thought  must  take  place 
before  a  capture  could  be  made.  They  went  not  as  a 
column  of  militia,  but  as  a  band  of  brave  men,  determined 
to  execute  justice  for  one  of  their  comrades,  who  without 
the  least  chance  for  defense,  had  been  laid  low,  with  no 
law  to  avenge  the  inhuman  act,  save  this  band  now  enroute 
to  act  as  judge,  jurors  and  executioners. 

This  man  Stokes,  not  content  to  feed  his  thirst  in  the 
numerous  saloons  that  were  openly  dealing  out  the  rattle- 
snake jpoison  to  their  fellowmen,  had  started  one  of  his 
own  in  a  tent,  with  drygoods  boxes  as  a  counter.  On 
entering  the  den,  which  was  filled  with  loafers  and  robbers 
of  his  own  class,  the  avengers  stepped  forward  and  with 
drawn  revolvers,  commanded  him  to  throw  up  his  hands. 
With  a  bound  he  sprang  forward  and  seized  the  first  man 
within  reach,  but  not  without  half  a  dozen  shots  being 
fired  at  him,  some  of  which  went  wild  of  their  mark,  but 


My  German  Friend,  47 

others  pierced  the  now  raving  desperado.  The  fight  was 
on,  but  close  encounter  prevented  guns  being  used,  and 
only  by  multiplied  forces  were  they  able  to  bind  him 
beyond  resistance. 

During  this  time  two  more  of  his  gang  had  been  taken 
in  and  made  ready  for  the  death  march  to  a  log  cabin 
where  the  roof  at  the  gable  end  projected  some  eight 
feet  beyond  the  main  building,  and  the  huge  logs  which 
supported  the  roof  were  some  ten  feet  above  the  ground. 
Stokes,  bleeding  from  his  many  wounds,  was  dragged 
with  his  two  pals  to  this  improvised  scaffold,  a  ladder 
placed  against  the  logs  and  a  rope  put  over  it.  One  by 
one  the  doomed  robbers  were  asked  what  they  had  to  say. 
With  words  too  vile  to  repeat,  they  still  struggled  until 
they  were  swung  into  eternity  by  being  pulled  up  by  a 
hundred  strong  men.  They  were  left  hanging  until  the 
following  day,  when  they  were  photographed  and  their 
pictures  stuck  up  in  many  public  places  as  a  warning  to 
others.  Stokes'  wife  was  given  money  by  the  railroad 
men  and  sent  back  to  her  parents  in  Iowa. 

Some  months  later  the  vigilantes  had  a  fight  with  a 
gang  of  desperadoes  at  Bear  River,  where  a  number  of 
men  were  shot  and  three  were  hung.  This  ended  the 
career  of  the  band  of  outlaws  known  as  the  "Laramie 
Road  Agents." 

MY    GERMAN    FRIEND. 

The  following  lines  will  relate  how  young  men  may 
be  drawn  together  through  some  incident  that  remains 
the  key  to  friendship  through  life ;  and  this  is  one  which, 
if  properly  described,  would  make  interesting  reading 
and  at  the  same  time  not  draw  on  the  imagination. 


48  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

During  the  sixties,  while  connected  with  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroad,  I  had  charge  of  the  iron  work  for  the 
car  department  at  Omaha,  Nebraska.  The  company  was 
building  some  box  and  flat  cars  and  it  was  my  duty  to 
be  around  among  the  different  squads  of  car  builders  to 
see  that  they  did  not  want  for  material.  While  thus 
employed  I  had  noticed  a  young  German,  who  was  one 
in  a  gang  composed  of  Irishmen,  and  whenever  an  oppor- 
tunity presented  itself  they  would  throw  iron  or  lumber 
on  him  and  did  not  hesitate  to  strike  him,  this  being 
done  with  a  view  of  driving  him  from  the  gang,  so  that 
he  could  be  replaced  by  one  of  their  own  nationality. 

My  sympathy  soon  made  me  keep  a  close  watch  over 
their  maneuvers,  and  it  was  not  long  before  I  saw  a 
gang  bringing  in  some  car  sills,  and  in  the  lead  was  the 
German  who  could  not  understand  English  and  was  there- 
fore at  the  mercy  of  the  unprincipled  men.  At  the  word 
"throw"  every  man  sprang  from  under  the  sill,  leaving 
the  German  to  receive  the  shock  of  one  end  of  the  falling 
sill;  and  to  add  insult  to  injury  they  laughed  at  the 
misery  they  had  caused  as  a  climax  to  the  abuse.  While 
the  German  stood  rubbing  his  shoulder  the  foreman  of 
the  gang  said,  "Be  gob,  if  he  gets  a  few  more  like  that 
hale  quit  the  job."  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  I  got 
"warm  under  the  collar,"  and  demanded  an  explanation 
for  such  treatment  and  was  told  that  it  was  none  of  my 
business.  At  this  the  young  German  came  forward  and 
tried  to  explain  in  his  broken  language  that  they  had 
misused  him.  I  threatened  to  report  them  to  the  super- 
intendent of  the  department.  As  a  justification  of  their 
conduct  the  lie  was  given  and  the  foreman  got  a  slap 
in  the  mouth  before  the  word  had  gone  three  feet.  I  must 


My  German  Friend.  49 

say  the  German  came  to  the  front  like  a  captain  and  in 
short  there  was  some  lively  exhibitions  of  pugilistic  science 
in  which  we  found  ourselves  outnumbered,  but  we  made 
a  good  showing  and  what  we  lacked  there  we  made  up 
in  reporting  the  affair  to  the  superintendent  and  having 
the  consolation  of  seeing  two  of  the  ring  leaders  leave 
the  shop. 

During  that  afternoon  I  was  told  that  they  intended 
settling  old  scores  on  leaving  the  shops,  so  I  invited  my 
new  friend  to  go  home  with  me,  which  invitation  he 
accepted.  I  must  say  that  I  did  not  feel  as  though  I  had 
struck  a  fortune  in  my  new  comrade,  but  I  had  enlisted 
in  the  cause  and  was  going  to  see  it  through. 

I  went  home  with  my  prize  and  introduced  him  to  my 
landlady.  Being  told  that  she  had  no  spare  rooms,  I  had 
him  occupy  my  room  with  me,  and  here  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  true  friendship.  He  gave  me  his  brief  history 
as  best  he  could,  for  he  could  not  speak  English  and  I 
could  not  speak  German ;  but  there  was  a  feeling  of  friend- 
ship, and  we  were  soon  able  to  carry  on  a  general  conver- 
sation, my  new  friend  starting  out  with  the  name  of  Peter 
Siems  and  learning  English  much  faster  than  I  did  Ger- 
man. Our  evenings  were  spent  very  pleasantly  by  my 
getting  a  great  deal  of  knowledge  of  Germany  and  my 
friend  posting  himself  in  the  ways  of  the  Yankee  nation. 

Here  comes  another  chapter,  of  which  the  foregoing 
seems  to  have  been  only  the  text,  that  started  us  on  the 
road  to  our  future  pursuits.  In  our  conversation  I  learned 
that  my  friend  was  inclined  to  leave  the  shops  at  an  early 
date  and  start  in  some  business  that  would  by  close  appli- 
cation build  up  a  fortune.  My  faith  or  confidence  in  this 
line  was  weak  and  I  feared  the  venture,  but  as  I  longed 


50  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

to  see  the  West  and  still  wished  to  stay  by  the  railroad, 
I  made  an  application  to  leave  the  shop  and  take  a  posi- 
tion out  on  the  line,  and  my  request  was  granted.  My 
friend  had  no  hesitation  about  leaving  the  company  and 
went  to  Cheyenne  to  build  a  house  to  either  rent  or  sell. 
Here  we  compared  notes  and  my  friend  wanted  me  to 
leave  the  road  and  join  him  in  contracting,  but  as  before 
I  lacked  courage  and  feared  a  failure,  so  still  stuck  to 
my  position  on  the  road.  We  parted  in  Cheyenne,  when 
my  business  called  me  out  on  the  line  of  the  railroad,  and 
my  friend  was  lost  to  me  for  some  ten  years,  during  which 
time  I  made  many  inquiries  for  him,  without  success. 
Meanwhile,  I  gained  courage  and  had  started  to  follow 
my  German  friend's  advice  by  doing  something  for  myself. 

About  this  time  the  discovery  of  gold  in  the  Black 
Hills  was  made,  and  having  had  a  little  experience  in  a 
mining  camp  while  on  a  geological  survey,  I  joined  a 
company  in  Chicago  which  was  called  the  Butts-Hammond 
Mining  Company,  built  a  five-stamp  quartz  mill  and  took 
it  to  the  gold  fields  of  Dakota  to  pound  out  of  the  rocks 
of  ages  the  fabulous  fortune  that  was  reported  to  be  wait- 
ing for  our  stamp  mill. 

We  reached  the  promised  land,  but  the  gold  had  been 
so  thinly  distributed  in  the  mountains  of  rocks  that  our 
little  stamp  mill  made  me  feel  as  though  the  job  was  too 
slow  to  get  rich  quickly,  so  I  went  in  search  of  a  more 
lucrative  business.  And  here  is  where  I  found  my  old 
friend  Siems  in  a  most  peculiar  manner.  I  was  talking  to 
some  gentlemen  in  a  lawyer's  office,  when  one  of  the 
party  said  he  had  *  been  on  the  Union  Pacific,  and  I  made 
inquiry  if  he  had  worked  on  that  road.  On  being 
told  that  he  had,  I  inquired  at  what  point,  and  was  told 


The  Milkman's  Revenge.  51 

at  the  Omaha  shops  and  along  the  road.  I  then  asked 
him  if  he  knew  a  man  along  the  road  by  the  name  of 
Peter  Siems.  At  this  he  looked  at  me  very  sharply  and 
said  he  did  and  that  he  also  knew  a  man  by  the  name  of 
I.  B.  Hammond,  at  the  same  time  he  came  forward,  and  I 
saw  once  more,  to  my  great  joy,  my  old  friend  Peter  Sierns. 
The  hand-shaking  was  sincere  and  many  a  tale  was  told 
of  the  past  ten  years,  but  the  greatest  change  was  in  my 
friend,  who  had  developed  from  a  beardless,  green  German 
boy  to  a  refined-looking  gentleman,  without  the  least 
accent  of  the  German  language.  He  had  married  an 
American  girl  and  was  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the 
Northwestern  Transportation  Company,  then  running  a 
stage  and  freighting  business  between  Bismarck  and  the 
Black  Hills.  Since  then  he  has  been  doing  railroad  con- 
tracting, having  done  a  large  amount  of  work  on  the 
Canadian  Pacific  and  built  most  of  the  Great  Northern 
Railroad.  I  must  say  I  am  proud  of  my  fight  for  the 
German  boy. 

THE    MILKMAN'S    REVENGE. 

While  I  was  stationed  at  Rawlings  Springs,  Wyoming 
Territory,  during  the  construction  of  the  Union  Pacific 
Railroad,  the  Sioux  Indians  made  many  raids  on  the 
ranchers  and  railroad  men  along  the  line  of  the  road. 
It  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  to  hear  of  section  men 
being  run  in,  while  trains  were  often  wrecked  and  burned 
by  the  hostile  reds. 

One  of  my  old  roommates,  a  brakeman  on  the  east 
end,  had  an  experience  through  which,  but  few  men  could 
have  lived.  He  was  on  a  west  bound  freight  running  out 
of  Plumb  Creek,  Nebraska.  The  Indians  had  piled  ties 


52  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

on  the  track,  which  threw  the  engine  from  the  rails  and 
piled  the  cars  in  a  shapeless  mass.  This  accomplished, 
the  Indians,  with  fiendish  yells,  made  sure  of  their  work 
with  the  tomahawk  and  torch.  Having  found  liquor  in 
the  freight,  they  were  soon  yelping  and  dancing  around 
the  blazing  wreck  like  so  many  devils  in  Hell. 

My  friend,  Robt.  Calhoun,  half  conscious,  bleeding  and 
stunned,  crawled  from  the  ruin,  only  to  be  pounced  upon, 
scalped  and  left  for  dead.  It  was  not  long,  however, 
before  the  redskins  felt  the  full  power  of  the  fire-water 
and  they  lay  sprawling  around  the  wrecked  cars  in 
drunken  stupor,  or  calling  to  each  other  with  maudlin 
yells. 

When  my  friend  had  revived  sufficiently  he  crawled 
painfully  along  the  ditch,  which  kept  him  from  the  view 
of  the  drunken  bucks,  carrying  his  scalp  in  his  hand. 
After  a  severe  struggle  and  with  much  pain  he  managed 


THE     MILKMAN' 
REVENGE. 


The  Milkman's  Revenge.  53 

to  reach  Plumb  Creek  and  gave  the  news  of  the  terrible 
wreck  and  massacre  of  the  train  men. 

Maddened  by  such  tales,  men  stood  ready  to  take 
revenge  on  any  Indian  in  sight. 

The  redskins  had  been  seen  almost  daily  along  the 
line  of  the  road  about  Medicine  Bow,  Fort  Steele  and 
Rawlings  Springs.  The  fever  ran  high,  and  the  general 
orders  were  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  the  company  fur- 
nishing their  trainmen  and  section  hands  with  rifles  and 
ammunition  with  which  to  defend  themselves. 

This  was  the  condition  of  affairs  when  I  was  talking 
one  Sunday  morning,  to  an  old  friend  of  mine,  Robert 
Shafer,  foreman  of  the  round-house  at  Rawlins.  I  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  our  chances  of  being  attacked. 
"Well,"  said  he,  "I  have  lived  on  the  frontier  for  over 
thirty  years,  and  I  've  never  had  to  take  to  the  bush  yet. ' ' 

"The  chances  are  that  we  won't  have  an  opportunity, 
if  it  comes  to  a  showdown, ' '  I  said. 

"All  right,"  said  he,  "I've  a  rusty  old  charge  in  my 
gun  that  has  been  loaded  for  the  cusses  for  more  than  a 
year.  I'd  like  to  pull  it  off,  and  see  what  it  would  do 
when  the  smoke  cleared  away." 

As  we  sat,  sheltered  from  the  wind,  on  the  sunny  side 
of  the  building,  I  glanced  up,  and  noticing  four  or  five 
cows  grazing  on  the  bunch  grass,  remarked,  "Those  cows 
would  make  good  food  for  our  red  friends." 

Shafer  looked  up  and  at  the  same  instant  we  both 
sprang  to  our  feet. 

"They're  after  them  now,"  said  Shafer,  for  sure 
enough,  there  came  five  redskins  mounted  on  ponies  and 
running  at  full  speed.  They  surrounded  the  cows  and 
started  them  over  a  low  range  of  hills. 


54  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

Knowing  they  would  cross  the  track  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hill  about  two  miles  above  us,  we  armed  ourselves, 
took  a  switch  engine,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  nearly 
a  dozen  armed  railroad  men*  were  going  up. the  track  at 
a  forty-mile  gait. 

During  this  time  a  general  firing  had  been  kept  up 
from  the  hotel,  and  some  of  the  bullets  kicked  up  the 
dust  very  close  to  the  Indians.  The  cows  were  too  poor 
to  make  much  headway,  so  they  were  left  behind. 

The  milkman,,  hearing  the  fusillade  from  his  ranch, 
started  up  the  .track,  rifle  in  hand,  but  we  were  far  in 
advance  of  him.  We  went  some  distance  beyond  where 
the  trail  crossed  the  track,  and  I  called  to  my  friend  that 
we  were  going  too  far,  but  he  said  he  knew  where  they 
would  cross,  so  I  laid  on  the  coal  pile  in  the  tender,  wait- 
ing for  them  to  put  in  an  appearance.  I  hadn't  long  to 
wait,  for  they  were  crossing  the  road  about  three-fourths 
of  a  mile  back  of  us. 

The  milkman  by  this  time  had  come  within  range,  and 
as  the  report  of  his  rifle  reached  us,  we  saw  one  of  the 
bucks  tumble  from  his  pony.  Quickly  two  of  his  compan- 
ions whirled  around,  and  coming  up  on  either  side  of  the 
fallen  man,  grasped  his  arms,  turned  and  spurred  their 
bronchos  on,  carrying  him  between  them. 

Again  the  milkman  loaded  and  fired  and  another 
Indian  reeled,  but  still  clung  to  his  pony.  Before  he  could 
load  for  a  third  shot  they  had  succeeded  in  putting  them- 
selves beyond  the  range  of  his  weapon. 

One  of  the  railroad  men  and  I  had  left  the  engine  and 
made  for  a  small  hill,  which  was  not  a  great  distance 
from  where  they  must  pass.  When  we  reached  the  hill 
we  were  but  two  hundred  yards  from  them,  but  they  had 


Ouster's  Massacre.  55 

seen  us  first  and  were  laying  on  the  sides  of  their  horses 
and  spurring  them  for  all  the  speed  in  them  to  avoid  our 
shot,  having  left  the  first  Indian  shot,  who  was  delaying 
them.  We  concluded  they  had  enough  for  that  day,  so 
allowed  them  to  go. 

On  our  return  to  the  engine  my  friend  Shafer  was 
not  choice  in  his  reprimand  to  us  for  leaving  the  engine 
and  going  off  where  we  could  have  been  easily  surprised 
by  a  band  of  warriors. 

We  then  ran  back  to  the  milkman  and  joining  him, 
followed  the  trail  of  the  reds  for  about  a  mile,  where  we 
found  a  big  buck  cold  and  stiff.  The  milkman  took  his 
knife  and  scalped  him  in  true  Indian  style,  after  which 
we  put  the  body  on  the  running  board  of  the  engine  and 
brought  it  to  the  station,  where  it  lay  on  the  platform 
when  the  passenger  train  came  in. 

The  killing  of  the  two  Indians  put  a  stop  to  the  depre- 
dations for  a  long  time  thereafter. 


OUSTER'S    MASSACRE. 

(Written  by  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  on  the  massacre  of 
General  Custer  in  the  Big  Horn  Mountains  by  Sitting  Bull  and  the 
band  of  Sioux  Indians.) 

In  the  desolate  land  and  lone, 
Where  the  Big  Horn  and  Yellowstone, 

Roar  down  their  mountain  path, 
By  their  fires  the  Sioux  chiefs 
Muttered  their  woes  and  griefs, 

And  the  menace  of  their  wrath. 

In  the  meadows  spreading  wide, 
By  woodland  and  riverside, 

The  Indian  village  stood. 
All  was  silent  as  a  dream, 
Save  the  rushing  of  the  stream, 

And  the  bluejay  in  the  wood. 


1 


Ouster's  Massacre.  57 

''Revenge/1  cried  Rain-in- the-f ace, 
"Revenge  upon  all  the  race 

Of  the  white  chief  with  yellow  hair." 
And  the  mountains  dark  and  high 
From  their  crags  re-echoed  the  cry 

Of  their  anger  and  despair. 

In  their  war  paint  and  their  beads, 
Like  a  bison  among  the  reeds, 

In  ambush  the  Sitting  Bull 
Lay  with  three  thousand  braves, 
Crouched  in  the  clefts  and  caves, 

Savage,  unmerciful. 

Into  that  fatal  snare, 

The  white  chief  with  yellow  hair 

And  his  three  hundred  men 
Dashed  headlong,  sword  in  hand ; 
But  of  that  gallant  band 

Not  one  returned  again. 

The  sudden  darkness  of  death, 
Overwhelmed  them  like  the  breath 

And  smoke  of  a  furnace  fire ; 
By  the  river  banks  and  between 
The  rocks  of  the  ravine, 

They  lay  in  their  bloody  attire. 

But  the  foemen  fled  in  the  night, 
And  Rain-in-the-face  in  his  flight, 

Uplifted  high  in  air, 
As  a  ghastly  trophy  bore 
That  brave  heart  that  beat  no  more, 

The  white  chief  with  yellow  hair. 

Whose  was  the  right  or  the  wrong, 
Sing  it,  oh  funeral  song, 

With  a  voice  that  is  full  of  tears; 
And  say  that  our  broken  faith 
Wrought  all  that  ruin  and  scathe, 

In  a  year  of  a  hundred  years. 


58  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life, 

A    RUNAWAY    TRAIN. 

During  the  construction  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad, 
I,  like  many  other  young  men,  had  a  longing  to  go  to  the 
front  and  see  the  road  being  built  through  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  little  thinking  what  I  was  liable  to  encounter. 
Had  I  been  willing  to  accept  advice  from  others  who  had 
gone  before,  I  would  have  avoided  an  endless  amount  of 
suffering.  However,  the  old  saying  is,  "Each  man  must 
do  his  own  dying,"  and  so  he  must  have  his  own  experi- 
ence. This  adventure  confirms  the  latter  expression  quite 
fully,  and  I  might  say,  was  an  order  for  experience  that 
was  filled  to  the  letter. 

To  carry  my  desire  into  effect,  I  called  on  the  super- 
intendent of  construction  and  secured  a  position  on  the 
water  supply,  with  headquarters  at  Cheyenne,  Wyoming. 
This  afforded  me  excellent  opportunities  to  see  the  new 
country  and  also  have  time  to  hunt,  as  there  was  plenty 
of  large  game  along  the  line  of  the  road. 

While  stationed  at  Cheyenne  we  got  orders  to  go  to 
Sherman  Station  and  erect  a  pumping  plant.  After 
completing  this  work  we  were  to  go  to  Red  Butte,  which 
was  sixteen  miles  west.  We  had  seven  cars  in  our  outfit, 
which  consisted  of  a  cook  car  and  bunk  cars,  together 
with  general  supplies.  After  laying  at  Sherman  some 
ten  days  trying  to  get  some  obliging  conductor  to  take 
us  down  the  mountain  to  Red  Butte,  I  succeeded  in 
getting  a  friend  of  mine  to  break  orders  by  taking  us 
down  at  the  tail  of  his  train.  All  trains  were  restricted 
to  ten  cars,  and  as  we  had  seven,  added  to  the  regular 
train,  it  very  much  exceeded  the  limit  of  the  orders. 
However,  by  a  little  persuasion  I  succeeded  in  getting 


60  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

my  friend  to  take  us  down,  agreeing  to  help  him  brake 
the  train. 

We  accordingly  took  our  places  along  the  train  to 
obey  the  signal  of  the  engineer.  At  this  point  I  blamed 
my  friend  for  not  fully  explaining  the  danger  in  taking 
a  long  train  down  a  mountain  over  a  new  track,  especially 
with  a  lot  of  clod-hoppers  instead  of  professional  brake- 
men.  However,  ignorance  was  bliss,  and  we  pulled  out 
from  that  dreary,  cold  station,  where  it  had  been  raining 
and  snowing  almost  continuously  for  days. 

The  conductor  ordered  one  of  his  brakemen  to  remain 
and  close  the  switch  after  the  train  had  pulled  out  on 
the  main  line,  and  as  we  left  the  siding  and  struck  the 
main  track  where  the  grade  started  down  the  mountain, 
we  found  we  were  going  too  fast  to  allow  the  brakeman 
who  had  been  sent  to  close  the  switch  to  catch  the  train, 
so  we  were  left  with  but  one  brakeman  and  the  conductor 
and  three  or  four  green  men  who  were  of  little  or  no  use. 
As  we  left  the  switch  the  engineer  called  for  brakes,  and 
as  each  of  our  men  set  up  his  brake  and  started  for  the 
next  car,  he  only  succeeded  in  reaching  it  by  crawling 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  which  ended  his  usefulness  from 
that  time  on. 

By  this  time  the  train  was  whirling  through  the  air 
like  a  cannon  ball  and  the  engineer  called  loud  and  long 
for  " brakes,  brakes,  brakes."  The  conductor  with  his 
lone  brakeman  did  noble  work,  but  they  were  outclassed 
and  on  sped  the  runaway  train,  over  bridges,  around 
short  curves,  through  deep  cuts,  roaring  like  thunder 
from  the  clouds.  The  engineer  in  his  endeavor  to  check 
the  speed,  would  reverse  his  engine  and  surge  back,  and 


A  Runaway  Train.  61 

every  minute  it  seemed  as  if  the  cars  must  fly  the  track. 
I  tried  to  act  as  brakeman ;  set  up  the  brakes  on  one 
car  and  went  to  the  next  and  found  the  pawl  gone 
that  held  the  brake  set.  I  pulled  the  brake  with  all 
my  strength.  The  engineer  kept  calling  for  "down 
brakes/'  and  as  he  surged  back  again,  I  saw  a  stake  that 
held  the  ties  on  a  flat  car  break  and  a  half  dozen  ties 
roll  down  between  the  cars.  I  drew  in  a  long  breath, 
expecting  to  see  the  train  pile  up  and  end  further  sus- 
pense, but  we  stuck  to  the  iron  all  right.  We  flew  down 
the  rough  track  that  had  not  been  laid  thirty  days,  and 
as  we  passed  a  tie  siding  where  an  engine  was  to  await 
our  coming,  the  conductor  and  engineer  of  the  waiting 
train  climbed  the  steep  bank  to  keep  from  danger,  as  they 
expected  to  see  us  leave  the  track  and  smash  into  them. 
We  finally  reached  Red  Butte,  where  the  grade  was  re- 
versed and  we  came  to  a  standstill,  after  running  the 
sixteen  miles  in  fifteen  minutes  from  the  time  of  leaving 
the  switch. . 

During  this  run  our  cook  car,  which  was  occupied  by 
a  large  darkey,  was  seemingly  being  kicked  to  pieces, 
and  on  opening  the  door  of  the  car,  in  which  he  had  been 
unintenionally  locked,  he  came  out  with  a  determined 
look,  and  said  to  me,  ' •  Next  time  I  rides  down  dat  moun- 
tain I'se  goin'  to  walk,"  and  in  fact  I  felt  he  showed 
good  judgment,  if  he  had  to  repeat  that  experience. 

That  night  following  our  runaway  my  hand  began 
swelling  from  the  severe  strain  which  I  had  exerted  in 
holding  the  brake,  and  it  finally  terminated  in  the  loss 
of  the  use  of  one  of  my  fingers,  having  strained  the  cords 
to  such  an  extent  that  they  were  permanently  stiffened. 


62  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

MINE    SALTING. 

Since  my  first  connection  with  mines  I  have  had  three 
experiences  with  salted  mines,  and  in  each  case  the 
method  of  deception  was  different.  The  first  was  a  very 
clever  piece  of  work,  and  had  for  its  subject  myself  and 
and  old  friend  of  mine,  a  man  of  long-  experience  and 
one  who  prided  himself  as  being  "burglar  proof,"  in  the 
language  of  safe-men.  But  nevertheless,  they  opened  our 
safeguard  and  took  from  us  some  eleven  hundred  dollars 
in  cash  and  left  us  a  few  burglar  tools  and  some  experi- 
ence, which  probably  is  still  good,  for  that  particular 
kind  of  salting.  It  was  unique  in  all  its  details ;  first,  for 
the  confidence  with  which  they  played  their  game,  and 
second,  in  being  able  to  keep  it  up  day  after  day  for 
three  weeks.  And  were  it  not  for  a  general  suspicion 
that  hovers  around  every  mining  deal,  they  most  likely 
would  have  pocketed  about  eleven  thousand  dollars  more ; 
so  we  will  credit  up  suspicion  with  eleven  thousand  and 
charge  neglect  with  eleven  hundred.  A  brief  explana- 
tion of  the  way  the  fraud  was  practiced  is  as  follows : 

I  was  running  a  mine  and  mill  and  employing  a  large 
number  of  men  in  different  capacities  around  the  works. 
Among  them  was  a  miner  known  to  have  done  consid- 
erable prospecting,  who,  like  most  of  his  class,  would 
not  work  longer  than  to  get  a  grub-stake,  and  then  go 
off  and  try  his  luck  again  in  search  of  a  prospect  that 
he  could  sell  for  a  much  larger  sum  than  he  could  earn 
by  day's  work. 

One  morning  this  man  came  to  the  office  and  called 
for  his  time,  saying  he  was  going  prospecting.  After 
some  five  or  six  weeks  he  came  to  me  and  said  he  had  a 
very  fine  prospect  and  wanted  me  to  go  and  look  at  it. 


Mine  Salting.  63 

This  I  agreed  to  do,  and  after  getting  from  him  consid- 
erable explanation  of  the  general  character  of  his  pros- 
pect, I  set  the  day  to  accompany  him,  but  not  without 
first  getting  his  price  and  what  he  guaranteed  this  ore 
to  run,  which  if  it  proved  to  be  as  stated,  would  make 
a  good  proposition.  I  had  a  neighbor  who  had  been  in 
the  milling  business  for  many  years,  and  who  was  inter- 
ested with  me  in  some  small  deals,  and  I  invited  him  to 
accompany  me  to  see  the  property,  which  was  some  four 
miles  up  a  mountain  called  Baldy. 

We  finally  reached  the  prospect,  which  was  located 
on  the  side  of  a  steep  hill.  They  had  run  a  tunnel  35 
feet  into  the  hill,  which  did  not  look  like  anything  I 
had  seen  before,  but  my  friend  said  he  had  once  worked 
a  mine  which  resembled  it  and  paid  well.  However,  we 
set  to  work  to  prospect  the  workings,  which  seemed  to 
carry  good  pay  ore.  Our  samples  were  taken  as  a  gen- 
eral test  to  see  if  it  contained  good  averages.  In  short, 
we  closed  the  deal  and  gave  the  prospector  a  cash  pay- 
ment and  agreed  to  pay  him  the  balance  of  $12,000 
(which  was  to  be  the  price)  at  the  expiration  of  sixty 
days,  which  was  the  longest  bond  we  could  get.  We 
were  then  to  put  some  miners  to  work  to  develop  it,  to 
see  if  we  were  to  get  value  received  for  the  money  we 
were  to  pay  at  the  expiration  of  that  tinxe. 

I  accordingly  took  one  of  our  best  men  and  outfitted 
him  with  ponies  for  riding  and  packing,  and  set  him  to 
running  the  tunnel  still  further  into  the  mountain.  I 
also  gave  him  instructions  to  the  effect  that  on  leaving 
the  mine  in  the  evening,  he  was  to  bring  a  sample  of  the 
ore  from  the  face  of  the  tunnel,  and  if  I  was  not  at  home, 
to  leave  them  at  my  cabin  in  the  rotation  of  each  day's 


64  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

work.  During  this  time  I  was  spending  much  of  my 
time  away  from  home,  and  on  my  return  I  took  the 
samples  and  commenced  testing  them  in  rotation.  Num- 
ber one  was  blank,  number  two — blank,  number  three — 
blank,  and  so  on,  winding  up  with  my  looking  blank  and 
saying  blank — blank — blank !  On  the  foreman  returning 
home  that  evening  I  inquired  as  to  the  cause  of  such  a 
showing,  and  he  said  that  he  had  taken  the  samples  as 
I  directed.  The  next  morning  I  accompanied  him  to  the 
prospect.  I  took  a  sample  from  the  face  of  the  tunnel 
and  pounded  it  up  and  panned  it,  which  showed  a  good 
prospect.  I  called  the  foreman,  and  showing  it  to  him 
asked  him  how  he  accounted  for  my  finding  such  a  pros- 
pect while  none  of  his  samples  had  carried  a  color.  He 
said  he  had  taken  the  samples  as  I  directed  and  had  not 
selected  them.  I  felt  like  contradicting  him,  but  con- 
cluded to  run  the  results  to  a  finish.  While  there  I  took 
a  number  more  samples  and  did  not  fail  to  get  good 
results.  After  giving  him  orders  to  continue  bringing 
samples,  I  went  home,  feeling  much  relieved  in  regard 
to  the  mine,  but  there  were  the  acts  of  my  foreman, 
which  still  were  not  explained,  and  my  suspicion  had 
changed  from  the  mine  to  the  man.  On  my  return  the 
next  week  I  started  in  to  test  the  next  lot  of  samples, 
and  to  my  chagrin  the  results  were  as  before.  On  the 
arrival  of  the  foreman  I  informed  him  of  the  results,  and 
while  I  did  not  venture  to  express  my  thoughts,  I  looked 
at  him  with  contempt,  merely  saying  I  would  go  with 
him  the  next  morning  to  the  mine.  As  he  turned  to 
leave  I  saw  he  was  not  pleased  with  the  way  I  was  crit- 
icising him.  He  halted  and  turned,  as  if  to  say  some- 
thing, but  finally  moved  on  and  I  saw  no  more  of  him 


Mine  Salting.  65 

until  the  next  morning  when  he  joined  me  for  the  ride 
up  the  mountain.  During  that  four-mile  ride  there  was 
not  one  dozen  words  spoken,  I  believing  that  he  was 
trying  to  deceive  me  for  the  purpose  of  getting  the  mine 
for  himself  or  some  friend  of  his.  On  entering  the  tunnel 
I  proceeded  to  take  a  sample,  having  tested  the  one  he 
had  brought  down  the  night  before  as  being  taken  from 
the  face,  where  I  was  now  taking  mine.  After  com- 
pleting the  sample  I  went  and  pounded  it  up  and  panned 
it  down,  and  much  to  my  delight  produced  a  long  string 
of  gold  in  the  pan,  which  showed  that  the  mine  was 
improving  by  the  development.  I  called  the  foreman 
and  asked  him  to  look  at  that,  showing  the  sample. 
During  this  time  I  was  getting  rather  "warm  under  the 
collar, ' '  as  the  miners  say,  and  I  was  not  alone  in  getting 
hot,  for  he  looked  at  it  and  said,  with  blank— blank- 
between  each  word,  that  he  would  not  work  for  a  man 
who  believed  him  lying,  to  which  I  replied  I  did  not 
want  a  man  to  work  for  me  that  I  could  not  believe,  and 
asked  him  to  explain  the  conditions.  He  said  he  had  no 
explanation  to  make,  but  that  he  had  done  as  he  had 
been  told  and  I  must  get  some  one  to  take  his  place. 
"Very  well,  that  I  will,"  said  I,  and  turned  to  the  light 
to  examine  my  prospect,  of  which  I  was  very  proud.  In 
doing  so  I  saw  some  bright  smooth  pieces  of  gold,  which 
I  knew  did  not  exist  in  quartz.  I  looked  again  and  put 
it  under  a  magnifying  glass,  which  revealed  the  fact  that 
fully  one-third  of  the  gold  was  placer  gold.  Where  did 
this  come  from?  I  had  dug  it  myself,  allowing  no  man 
to  handle  my  sample,  and  still  the  fact  remained— it 
was  there.  I  then  began  to  get  down  off  my  high  horse 
and  look  for  fraud  in  other  directions.  During  this  time 


66  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

the  foreman  was  packing  his  traps  to  leave  camp,  but  I 
was  ready  to  make  things  right  by  finding  the  fraud,  so 
I  called  to  him,  saying  I  thought  we  were  both  off  and 
he  had  better  come  and  help  me  find  wherein  the  fault 
lay.  In  fact,  we  compared  notes  and  commenced  the 
search,  but  no  trace  could  we  find  of  any  marks  in  the 
face  of  the  tunnel  which  would  indicate  that  any  one 
had  been  disturbing  it,  but  the  fact  remained;  we  could 
get  gold  for  three  or  four  inches  in  the  solid  face,  and 
beyond  that  the  rock  was  barren. 

I  told  the  boys  to  bring  their  tools  home  that  night 
and  I  would  see  what  the  next  twenty-four  hours  would 
bring  forth.  I  went  home  and  saw  my  partner,  who 
examined  the  gold  and  said,  "We've  got  it  in  the  neck 
this  time."  "Well,"  said  I,  "there  may  be  some  one 
besides  me  that  will  get  it."  "Well,"  said  he,  "we  had 
better  pocket  our  loss  and  say  nothing."  But  I  was  too 
hot  to  let  it  pass,  and  as  night  came  on  I  took  my  horse 
and  started  for  the  camp.  It  was  a  long,  lonely  trail 
through  the  forest,  and  more  than  once  did  I  have  to  climb 
down  off  my  horse  to  find  my  hat,  which  was  repeatedly 
knocked  off  by  the  brush.  Finally  I  reached  a  place  where 
I  felt  I  had  better  take  the  trail  on  foot,  so  I  climbed  down 
and  tied  my  horse  to  a  sapling  and  started  on  foot  toward 
the  tunnel.  I  had  not  gone  more  than  a  hundred  feet 
when  I  stepped  on  a  stick,  which  broke,  making  a  loud 
noise,  and  to  my  disgust  there  came  the  barking  of  a 
dog.  This  was  the  sentinel  which  was  left  to  guard  the 
approach  of  strangers.  I  stopped  and  stood  still,  waiting 
results,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  there  came 
out  of  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  two  men,  whom  the  dog 
had  warned.  Their  forms  were  just  visible  in  the  moon- 


••I 


I 


68  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

light,  and  they  needed  no  other  warning,  for  they  broke 
and  ran  up  the  creek.  I  called  for  them  to  halt  and  at 
the  same  time  sent  a  couple  of  shots  flying  over  their 
heads,  which  seemed  to  add  speed  to  their  flight. 

I  pushed  on  up  the  trail  and  entered  the  tunnel, 
where  I  found  a  piece  of  paper  spread  on  the  floor,  with 
a  small  ratchet  drill  and  some  fine  gold  mixed  with  sand ; 
also  a  goose  quill  and  a  piece  of  wire,  which  they  had 
used  to  do  the  salting.  This  had  been  accomplished  by 
their  drilling  the  face/of  the  tunnel  full  of  holes  with 
the  one-eighth  inch  drill,  then  filling  the  goose  quill  with 
fine  sand  and  gold,  placing  the  small  end  of  the  goose 
quill  in  the  drill  hole,  and  taking  the  wire  and  ramming 
the  hole  full  of  sand  and  fine  gold.  This  when  done  and 
a  handful  of  sand  or  dirt  thrown  against  the  face  made 
it  impossible  to  detect  the  fraud,  no  matter  how  closely 
examined. 

It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  salters  never  came 
around  to  have  us  take  up  the  bond;  in  fact,  they  left 
their  blankets  and  hit  the  trail  out  of  that  locality  for 
good. 


A    PREACHING   EXPERT. 

A  majority  of  the  people  of  a  mining  community  are 
"mine  owners."  In  fact,  it  will  be  hard  to  find  a  person 
in  camp  who  has  not  his  mining  "interest,"  and  who 
contributes  to  the  support  of  the  prospectors  who  do 
"assessments"  and  some  development  work.  But  in  a 
"low  grade  ore"  country  development  becomes  so  great 
an  operation  that  the  "capitalist"  is  the  hope  of  most 
of  the  inhabitants.  Each  coach  is  watched;  each  de- 


A  Preaching  Expert.  69 

parture  for  the  East  is  discussed  privately  and  in  print, 
and  the  citizens  hope  that  the  departing  resident  will 
bring  back  capital  to  develop  the  property.  All  agree 
that  whatever  the  chance  of  success,  every  dollar  brought 
in  goes  to  develop  the  country  and  make  prosperous 
times;  for  the  money  stays  in  the  camp.  Woe  to  the 
" blackmailer"  who  suggests  that  the  money  could  be 
better  spent  elsewhere  than  on  the  chosen  property. 

The  "watchers"  of  the  Black  Hills  were  rewarded 
one  day  by  learning  that  a  real  capitalist  was  visiting 
the  Hills  in  company  with  his  own  expert,  the  noted 
John  Taylor  of  London.  His  guide  was  the  good  ex- 
ploiter of  Black  Hills  property— Bob  Floorman. 

Greenwood  was  the  camp  toward  which  his  attention 
had  been  turned  and  many  remembered  the  fine  "pan- 
prospects"  they  had  seen  from  the  property,  exhibited 
by  a  grocer  on  Sherman  street.  Still,  there  was  a  general 
feeling  in  town  that  the  expert,  Taylor,  would  find  that 
property  undesirable.  The  mistake  became  evident  when 
it  was  learned  that  he  had  reported  that  the  property  was 
"better  than  the  Homestake,"  and  3000  by  600  feet  of 
$10.00  ore  could  be  shown.  The  doubters  still  shook 
their  heads,  but  the  sale  was  made,  and  provision  was 
at  once  made  for  building  a  mill  superior  to  anything  in 
the  world. 

The  principal  capitalist,  Matthew  Laflin,  of  Chicago, 
was  supposed  to  be  worth  seven  millions,  so  pity  need 
not  be  wasted  on  him.  He  was  over  seventy  and  didn't 
thank  anybody  for  pity  or  advice.  He  was  advised  by 
John  Taylor,  the  greatest  mining  expert  in  the  world 
and  a  religious  man,  who  could  talk  to  a  Sunday  school, 


70  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

make  a  prayer  or  preach  a  sermon  to  please  the  most 
critical.  "Build  me  the  mill;  I  will  pay  the  bill,"  said  he. 

The  mill  was  built  for  him  to  the  Queen's  taste  by 
I.  B.  and  W.  B.  Hammond,  of  Chicago  and  Deadwood. 
Nothing  was  wanting  in  this  construction.  The  120 
stamps  were  of  the  latest  -Black  Hills  type,  Blake  heavi- 
est crusher  and  Hammond  ore  feeders.  The  forest  was 
searched  for  the  heaviest  timbers.  Bull  trains  arrived 
daily  from  Fort  Pierce  bringing  the  machinery.  From 
a  wilderness  with  two  log  cabins  a  mining  camp  was 
constructed  having  1200  inhabitants  and  of  sufficient 
importance  to  wrest  the  county  offices  from  the  Demo- 
crats for  the  first  time.  Hard  work  was  pleasure.  The 
site  was  a  paradise  for  a  miner  or  a  family — a  low  valley 
with  a  pretty,  clear  stream  running  through  it  and  the 
hills  on  either  side  covered  with  tall  pines — healthy  and 
pleasant.  The  mine  was  well  above  the  mill  and  a  narrow 
gauge  road  and  a  locomotive  were  provided  to  haul  the 
ore.  Families  of  the  miners  built  cabins  and  prepared 
to  spend  the  winter  and  live  there  permanently. 

Still  doubt  existed  in  some  minds  about  the  quality 
of  the  ore  and  the  final  success  of  the  camp.  But  the 
great  John  Taylor  of  London  was  looking  after  that  end 
of  it— he  and  his  sons  and  his  inspector— all  of  England. 
He  was  not  so  busy  but  that  he  could  look  after  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  the  community,  and  every  Sunday 
he  held  services.  Week  days  he  and  his  good  wife 
handed  around  tracts  and  presented  prayer  books  to  the 
miners. 

The  fall  arrived  and  six  inches  of  snow  was  on  the 
ground,  when  the  contractors  declared  the  mill  ready  to 
start.  Some  little  delay  occurred  in  getting  the  ore  chute 


A  Preaching  Expert.  71 

and  bins  ready  at  the  mine.  Mr.  John  Taylor  was  general 
manager  and  settled  all  contracts.  A  little  dispute  arose 
between  the  contractors  and  Taylor  over  the  reading  of 
the  contract — a  matter  of  $1000  or  so.  It  was  settled 
one  day.  John  Taylor  was  notified  to  pay  up  or  keep 
out  of  the  mill.  He  attempted  to  walk  past  the  Chicago 
foreman  of  construction,  but  changed  his  mind  and  paid 
the  last  payment. 

The  contractors  were  very  doubtful  of  his  ability  as 
a  mining  expert,  or  his  honesty  as  a  man,  but  as  their 
overtures  in  that  direction  had  been  turned  down  by  Mr. 
Laflin,  they  considered  it  their  duty  to  complete  the  con- 
tract and  be  silent. 

After  the  settlement  of  the  contract,  amicable  rela- 
tions being  re-established,  the  said  Taylor  proposed  a 
supper  to  celebrate.  The  miners  were  all  to  be  invited, 
also  some  guests  from  Deadwood.  In  suggesting  this  to  the 
junior  contractor,  Taylor  said  some  liquid  refreshment 
should  be  provided,  and  suggested  the  contractors  could 
furnish  the  liquid,  while  he  would  furnish  the  solid  food. 
Relying  on  the  religious  character  Taylor  had  established, 
the  contractor  suggested  beer  and  wine.  Taylor  replied : 
"A  bottle  of  beer  for  each  miner,  and  a  bottle  of  wine 
for  each  of  the  others."  The  beer  and  the  wine  were 
provided.  The  supper  was  a  great  success,  and  it  is 
related  that  Taylor,  standing  amidst  flying  corks,  and 
with  his  own  bottle  of  wine  well  sampled,  delivered  him- 
self of  a  temperance  lecture  in  which  he  promised  to 
discharge  any  miner  found  going  into  a  saloon.  Some 
say  the  supper  was  opened  by  him  with  prayer. 

All  was  ready  for  the  trial  run  and,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  a  first-rate  amalgamator,  the  stamps  began  crush- 


72  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

ing  ore.  Five  thousand  tons  were  crushed  and  still  the 
verdigris  on  the  plates  would  not  down.  There  must 
be  something  in  the  batteries.  A  clean-up  was  made  and 
not  five  dollars  of  amalgam  was  found.  Then  came  the 
crash.  The  end  of  John  Taylor  came  when  he  met  old 
man  Laflin.  All  authority  was  taken  from  him  and  I.  B. 
Hammond  was  put  in  charge  to  try  to  make  the  best  of 
the  wreck. 

Arriving  in  Greenwood  Hammond  found  the  miners 
and  disappointed  workmen  in  a  riotous  state  of  mind. 
This  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  as  many  had,  at  con- 
siderable cost,  brought  their  families  there  to  settle  and 
were  now  turned  out  of  work  in  the  winter.  There  was 
talk  of  hanging  Mr.  Taylor,  but  a  vigorous  speech  by 
Mr.  Hammond  to  the  men  calmed  their  minds  and  the 
law  was  allowed  to  take  its  course.  Taylor  was  promptly 
sued  and  kept  from  leaving  the  territory. 

The  case  came  to  trial  with  strong  counsel  on  both 
sides.  The  intricacies  of  the  deal,  made  before  the  devel- 
opments above  related,  came  out  in  the  court  proceedings. 

Taylor  had  arranged  with  the  owner  of  the  mine  to 
sell  for  $17,000,  but  had  arranged  with  Laflin  to  repre- 
sent him  as  principal  in  the  purchase  of  the  property  and 
get  it  at  the  lowest  possible  price.  He  represented  to 
Laflin  that  $100,000  was  the  lowest  price  for  which  it 
could  be  bought.  They  agreed  that  a  representative  of 
Laflin  should  go  and  see  the  property— a  man  trusted 
and  respected  by  him  and  then  in  his  employ.  This  man 
we  will  call  Mr.  A.  Mr.  A.  visited  the  property;  was  a 
tenderfoot ;  was  deceived  and  salted.  He  made  an  agree- 
ment with  Taylor  to  receive  a  commission  of  $10,000  and 


A  Preaching  Expert.  73 

reported  favorably.  Taylor  divided  with  the  Black  Hills 
promoter  $78,000. 

In  court  the  lawyers  for  Taylor  tried  to  show  that 
the  property  adjoining  had  been  examined  by  their 
expert  in  company  with  W.  B.  Hammond  and  pronounced 
good  for  $2.00  to  $4.00  per  ton.  W.  B.  Hammond  swore 
that  at  that  examination  he  and  said  expert  had  dared 
the  owner  to  show  them  one  piece  of  ore  that  would 
show  fifty  cents  per  ton,  and  had  pronounced  said  adjoin- 
ing property  valueless. 

But  a  principle  of  law  and  "horse  swapping,"  which, 
translated,  means,  "buyer  beware,"  protected  the  skirts 
of  Taylor.  If  Laflin  had  not  sent  Mr.  A.  to  examine  the 
property  he  could  have  recovered  judgment  against 
Taylor.  As  Laflin  had  sent  A.  as  an  expert,  to  examine 
the  property,  Taylor  was  cleared.  Taylor  then  sued 
Laflin  for  damages,  but  got  nothing,  and  Laflin  dis- 
charged Mr.  A.  without  a  blessing  of  the  right  kind, 
or  an  interest  in  his  will. 

Mr.  Taylor,  in  more  bad  business,  was  brought  to 
justice  in  Mexico  soon  after  by  a  mob.  He  was  not  John 
Taylor  at  all,  but  a  sharper  of  the  smoothest  kind,  and 
had  no  knowledge  of  mines  whatever. 

Mr.  Hammond  prospected  the  property,  and  finding 
no  values;  sold  out  all  machinery  and  closed  up  matters 
for  Mr.  Laflin,  who  did  not  wince  at  the  loss  of  over 
$300,000,  blamed  no  one.  but  Mr.  A.  and  himself,  and 
thanked  Mr.  Hammond,  besides  making  him  a  valuable 
present. 

So  ended  the  Greenwood  affair.  The  beautiful  site 
for  a  mine,  though  somewhat  disfigured,  still  remains. 


74 


Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 


MY   FIRST    TRIP    TO    ALASKA. 

In  the  year  1886,  while 
spending  some  time  in 
Boston,  Mass.,  I  was  told, 
in  the  course  of  conver- 
sation with  some  mining 
men,  of  a  wonderful  mine 
in  Alaska.  I  had  previ- 
ously met  an  engineer 
from  that  country,  who 
had  given  me  an  account 
of  the  remarkable  Tread- 
well  mine,  which  had 
greatly  excited  my  curi- 
osity. 

Learning  that  some  Bos- 
ton people  had  property 
adjoining  the  Treadwell, 
and  wanted  to  contract  for 
a  large  stamp  mill,  I  called 
on  the  promoter  of  the 
enterprise  to  learn  more 
about  that  property.  When 
he  learned  that  I  was  a 
mill  builder,  with  many 
years'  experience  in  the  erection  of  mining  machinery,  I 
was  most  cordially  received.  He  was  anxious  to  make  a 
contract  for  a  120-stamp  mill  to  be  placed  on  the  prop- 
erty adjoining  this  Treadwell  mine. 

I  soon  found  that  the  promoter  had  no  funds  with 
which  to  pay  for  a  mill  of  those  dimensions,  so  made  a 


My  First  Trip  to  Alaska.  75 

contract  with  him  to  the  effect  that  if  his  ore  would 
run  a  certain  amount  to  the  ton,  I  would  build  him  a 
mill  and  take  my  pay  out  of  the  output  of  the  mine 
and  mill.  In  order  to  avoid  any  "wild  goose  chasing" 
(being  aware  that  those  birds  went  north  in  the  spring), 
and  as  I  had  not  lost  any,  I  required  an  advance  for 
expense  money  and  five  hundred  dollars  for  time  to  be 
spent  in  going  and  making  an  examination  of  the  mine. 
In  the  event  of  its  carrying  the  value  agreed  upon,  I 
would  refund  his  money  and  build  him  a  mill,  he  paying 
all  costs  and  a  certain  per  cent  to  me  for  carrying  the 
deal. 

The  contracts  were  made  and  the  time  set  to  start 
on  our  journey  of  some  five  thousand  miles  to  see  a  mine 
that  would  eclipse  the  Homestake. 

Having  an  appointment  to  meet  some  mining  men 
and  examine  a  mine  on  the  San  Juan  Mountains,  some 
twenty  miles  from  Silverton,  Colorado,  I  started  in 
advance  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  who  were  to  take  some 
of  the  stock  which  the  promoter  proposed  selling  as  soon 
as  the  mill  was  an  assured  thing. 

After  finishing  my  business  on  the  San  Juan  Moun- 
tains, I  prepared  to  follow  the  rest  of  the  party.  I  then 
learned  that,  it  being  Sunday,  I  could  not  get  a  train 
until  the  following  day.  This  would  occasion  my  losing 
the  boat  at  Seattle  and  a  wait  of  thirty  days,  there  being 
only  one  boat  each  month. 

This  was  a  terrible  shock.  I  sat  down  in  dumb  despair, 
biting  my  fingernails  and  going  over  in  my  mind  the 
song  of  my  early  school  days,  "I  wish  I  were  a  birdie, 
etc."  A  longing  to  fly  is,  to  be  sure,  a  laudable  desire, 
it  being  possessed  by  many  good  and  righteous  people. 


76  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

It  brought  me,  however,  no  nearer  my  destination  and 
I  cast  about  for  more  practical  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
transportation. 

Finally  I  decided  to  wire  the  superintendent  of  the 
road  for  an  engine  to  connect  me  with  the  Union  Pacific 
at  Pueblo,  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  distant. 
I  had  many  explanations  to  make  by  wire,  but  touched 
the  key-note  when  I  told  the  superintendent  my  name 
and  where  I  hailed  from.  When  he  ordered  an  engine 
to  run  me  to  Pueblo  I  could  have  fallen  on  his  neck 
and  blessed  him  had  he  been  within  falling  distance. 
I  expected,  of  course,  to  pay  at  least  a  dollar  a  mile  for 
this  special  service,  but  on  arriving  in  Pueblo  I  found 
in  the  superintendent  an  old  friend  whom  I  had  not  seen 
for  many  years,  and  who  asked  me  how  I  had  enjoyed 
my  ride. 

After  we  had  lunched  together  and  swapped  many 
old  time  yarns  I  expresed  my  gratitude  for  the  way  in 
which  he  had  assisted  me  and  inquired  the  amount  of 
my  bill.  "Well,"  said  he,  "when  you  have  finished 
building  your  Alaska  mill,  come  up  here  and  we'll  show 
you  more  good  mines  than  you'll  find  in  all  Alaska,  and 
I'll  include  this  bill  in  the  first  shipment  you  make  over 
this  road." 

After  taking  my  seat  in  the  Pullman  for  Portland, 
Oregon,  I  fell  to  thinking  of  the  strange  event  which 
had  brought  two  old  friends  together  after  so  many  years. 
My  reflections  were  interrupted  by  a  face  strangely 
familiar  to  me  and  I  arose  and  followed  the  person  into 
the  smoker,  when  to  my  surprise  I  recognized  in  him 
another  old  friend,  A.  L.  Dickerman,  a  mining  expert 


My  First  Trip  to  Alaska.  77 

from  Deadwood,  S.  D.     The  Professor  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  asked  me  where  I  was  going. 

"To  Alaska,"  said  I. 

"To  Alaska,  to  Alaska,"  said  he,  "Why,  so  am  I, 
so  am  I ! "  And  on  comparing  notes  we  found  we  were 
both  going  to  examine  the  same  property.  The  Pro- 
fessor was  going  for  some  Boston  and  Providence  men, 
who  anticipated  buying  a  large  amount  of  the  stock  of 
the  mine. 

We  enjoyed  the  next  three  days,  passing  through  the 
desert  and  over  the  Blue  Mountains,  in  the  company  of 
a  party  of  excursionists  who  were  bound  on  a  sight-seeing 
trip  to  Alaska. 

On  reaching  the  Sound,  we  found  many  people  who 
were  bound  for  Alaska,  and  the  old  Aucon,  a  side-wheel 
steamer,  lying  at  the  dock  ready  to  carry  her  load  of 
human  freight  to  the  frozen  North. 

We  soon  were  under  way  and  stopped  only  at  Taeoma, 
Port  Townsend,  Victoria  and  Nanaimo,  where  the  vessel 
coaled  and  where  we  spent  the  Fourth  of  July  picnicing 
on  a  small  island  with  some  British  subjects  from  the 
town. 

After  slowly  winding  our  way  through  the  islands 
and  stopping  again  at  Fort  Wrangel,  the  first  American 
port  in  Alaska,  we  reached  the  supposed  Golden  Shore. 

During  the  voyage  the  promoter,  Thomas  Nowell,  had 
told  me  from  day  to  day  how  he  would  enrich  me  if  I 
reported  favorably  on  his  mine.  He  also  told  me  what 
great  miners  his  brothers  were,  they  having  discovered 
this  mine.  He  also  had  his  proposed  buyers  to  keep  in 
line,  likewise  the  Professor.  He  very  much  disliked 
to  see  the  Professor  and  myself  on  such  friendly  terms. 


78  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

When  we  reached  Douglas  Island  we  all  went  to  look 
at  the  mountain  of  gold.  After  winding  our  way  up 
through  the  brush,  devil's  club  and  skunk  cabbage,  we 
arrived  at  the  alleged  mine.  There  was  not  even  a  ten- 
foot  hole  on  the  pretended  mine,  but  from  the  story  of 
this  big  brother  and  the  promoter  it  was  the  most  won- 
derful on  record. 

To  satisfy  him,  we  got  about  twenty  Indians  and 
made  cross-cuts  through  the  debris  to  the  solid  rock 
and  took  samples  for  some  two  hundred  feet,  which  when 
assayed  did  not  run  fifty  cents  to  the  ton. 

This  ended  the  big  deal.  The  promoter,  however, 
refused  to  die  a  natural  death  and  rushed  about  the 
country  looking  for  more  prospects  that  would  prospect 
and  finally  located  another  lot  of  worthless  granite  beds. 
He  then  cried  for  an  eighty-stamp  mill  and  found  suckers 
to  follow  him  with  their  money  to  the  tune  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  but  I  did  not  build  the  mill. 

His  schemes  have  been  worked  in  Alaska  for  fifteen 
years,  and  a  million  and  a  half,  probably,  of  Boston's 
money  has  gone  to  Alaska  after  wild  geese  or  wild  cats. 
But  it  seems  that  now  his  race  is  run  or  the  suckers  are 
all  dead. 


A    STAMPEDE    FOR    GOLD. 

In  December,  1889,  while  in  Alaska,  I  had  a  little 
experience  that  still  remains  fresh  in  my  mind.  It  was 
in  one  of  those  stampedes  which  often  carry  miners 
far  beyond  what  a  business  man  would  call  good 
judgment.  But  the  miner's  excuse  is  that  some  times 
one  sees,  or  thinks  he  sees,  a  fortune  in  sight  by  taking 


A  Stampede  for  Gold.  79 

a  "flyer"  at  a  rich  prospect  that  is  often  worth  a  for- 
tune before  a  hundred  dollars  has  been  expended  on  it. 
Nature  generally  leaves  her  richest  stores  in  concealed 
nooks,  hidden  by  blankets  of  debris,  apparently  with  a 
view  of  keeping  it  from  the  sight  of  the  gold  hunter,  who 
spends  years  in  searching  for  and  opening  the  ware- 
house where  Mother  Earth  has  stored  this  treasure. 
As  a  rule  they  are  only  found  by  accident.  When  such 
a  discovery  is  made  and  the  news  of  the  find  leaks  out, 
there  comes  what  is  known  as  a  "stampede,"  each  man 
rushing  wildly,  anxious  to  get  to  the  new  discovery  first 
in  order  to  locate  himself  and  his  friends  on  the  best 
claim  nearest  to  the  new  find. 

This  was  the  preliminary  to  what  started  me  on  a 
stampede  in  1889,  ending  in  disappointment. 

I  was  at  Juneau,  Alaska.  Early  one  morning  a  sailor- 
prospector  came  into  camp  and  exhibited  some  fine 
specimens  of  quartz,  saying  he  had  found  a  most  won- 
derful ledge  of  gold  ore  and  wanted  to  have  some  one 
help  him  work  it,  for  he  was  like  most  prospectors,  with 
seldom  more  than  a  month's  provisions  to  live  on. 
According  to  his  description  it  was  situated  about  two 
hundred  miles  up  the  coast. 

After  talking  with  him  some  time,  I  made  a  bargain, 
in  which  I  was  to  charter  a  small  steamboat  and  with 
tools  and  provisions  go  up  the  coast  some  two  hundred 
miles  in  the  dead  of  winter  and  locate  this  rich  claim, 
give  the  prospector  a  certain  cash  payment  and  a  future 
interest  in  the  property,  and  also  pay  him  a  salary  for 
his  valuable  services.  His  description  made  me  feel  that 
I  would  never  see  another  day  of  poverty.  After  the 
necessary  papers  had  been  drawn  up  and  signed,  I  felt, 


80  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

as  though  my  fortune  had  been  well  launched  and  would 
not  have  taken  any  small  sum  for  my  chances,  for  I  was 
not  to  pay  anything  except  the  chartering  of  the  steamer 
until  after  I  had  examined  the  mine. 

The  arrangements  completed,  I  set  to  work  to  get  a 
boat  that  was  sufficiently  seaworthy  to  make  this  trip 
up  the  Alaskan  coast  at  such  a  time  of  the  year.  Few 
realize  the  perils  of  navigation  at  that  season  along  the 
bleak  Alaskan  coast.  I  have  seen  even  the  largest  ocean 
steamers  compelled  to  turn  back  and  seek  shelter  behind 
the  island  mountains  from  the  fierce  tempests  that  rage 
in  those  frigid  island  channels.  After  some  delay  I  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  a  small  steamer  named  the  "Yukon." 
This  boat  had  been  in  service  many  years  and  was  poor, 
but  the  best  we  could  find.  We  then  got  a  good  supply 
of  coal  and  provisions  for  the  trip,  and  all  necessary  tools 
to  start  developing  our  new  gold  mine. 

During  this  time  the  news  of  the  discovery,  which  I 
was  constantly  cautioning  my  new  partner  to  keep  a 
secret,  began  to  leak  out,  and  by  the  time  we  were  ready 
to  sail  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  towns  of  Juneau  and 
Douglas  were  watching  us  and  getting  every  available 
craft  that  was  half  seaworthy  to  follow  us.  But  I  did 
not  intend  to  be  out-generaled,  so,  when  we  were  all  in 
readiness,  waited  until  night  came  on  before  starting 
east  around  Douglas  Island. 

Knowing  that  we  had  the  fastest  boat  obtainable  for 
the  expedition,  I  felt  confident  that  we  could  reach  the 
promised  land  without  being  overhauled  or  molested  by 
pursuers.  As  we  rounded  the  north  end  of  Douglas 
Island  I  saw,  much  to  my  surprise,  that  two  small  sloops 
had  gone  up  over  the  bar  at  high  tide  and  were  waiting 


A  Stampede  for  Gold.  81 

to  see  our  course.  But  we  felt  perfectly  sure  of  being 
successful  in  our  undertaking. 

Soon  after  leaving  our  would-be  pursuers  and  strik- 
ing around  toward  Point  Retreat,  we  encountered  a  very 
heavy  northeast  wind,  which  made  our  little  craft  labor 
very  heavily,  and  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  she  was 
rolling  and  plunging  in  the  surf,  without  sufficient  power 
to  drive  her  to  any  one  point.  The  night  grew  extremely 
dark,  our  compass  was  very  deficient  in  its  action,  and 
we  merely  went  where  the  wind  blew  us. 

About  ten  o'clock  at  night  our  coal  bunkers  broke, 
and  the  coal  went  rolling  down  on  the 'engine,  stopping 
its  further  action.  All  on  board,  with  one  or  two  excep- 
tions, were  extremely  seasick  and  hung  to  the  rigging, 
waiting  for  the  climax,  which  seemed  inevitable 
at  any  moment.  However,  I  for  one,  did  not  propose 
to  give  up  my  chance  of  landing  our  craft  and  finding 
the  treasure  which  we  had  started  in  search  of.  In  a 
few  minutes  we  discovered  that  the  boat  was  leaking 
badly,  and  endeavored  to  find  the  source  from  which  the 
water  came.  After  a  considerable  search,  we  found  that 
the  sleeve  around  the  rudder  post  had  worked  loose  and 
was  lost.  This  was  a  serious  condition,  for  it  was  very 
difficult  to  get  anything  that  would  fasten  around  the 
rudder  to  stop  the  leakage.  After  quite  a  while,  with 
considerable  effort,  we  secured  a  couple  of  pieces  of  scant- 
ling and  gouged  them  out  so  that  the  halves  would 
encircle  the  rudder  and  could  be  lashed  together.  We 
thus  made  a  sleeve  around  the  rudder,  wedging  it  between 
the  deck  and  the  planking  of  the  boat,  which  stopped 
the  most  of  the  leak. 

We  kept  up  a  continual  blowing  of  our  whistles,  the 


82  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

echo  of  which  gave  us  the  approximate  distance  from 
the  shores.  In  this  condition  we  rolled  in  the  surf  until 
break  of  day.  During  that  time  we  sacked  most  of  our 
coal,  repaired  our  bunkers,  and  finally  got  our  engine 
in  running  order  again,  but  not  until  we  were  within 
a  couple  of  hundred  yards  of  a  reef,  over  which 
the  seas  were  breaking  at  a  fearful  rate.  But  for  the 
timely  starting  of  our  engines,  we  would,  probably  all 
have  been  dashed  to  pieces  and  lost.  During  the  night 
we  lost  our  ship 's  yawl,  which*  left  us  perfectly  stranded, 
without  a  boat  to  reach  the  shore,  even  if  we  got  out  of 
the  main  channel;  but  we  finally  succeeded  in  rounding 
the  reef  and  by  noon  had  reached  Kilisnoo.  There  I 
foTind  an  old  friend,  Cark  Spoon,  general  manager  of  the 
herring  fishery.  He  gave  us  a  hearty  welcome,  a  good  din- 
ner, and  furnished  us  with  another  launch,  and  by  two 
o'clock  we  continued  our  journey.  After  putting  in  an- 
other eighteen  hours  of  slow  navigation,  our  boat  came  to 
a  sudden  stop.  I  went  to  the  pilot  house  to  ascertain  the 
cause  of  the  delay.  There  I  met  the  ironclad  skipper,  Cap- 
tain Healey,  of  more  recent  Yukon  fame,  but  who  at  that 
time  was  navigating  the  waters  of  Alaska  with  that  noted 
sheet  iron  water-coffin,  the  ancient  steamer  Yukon,  a  boat 
which  always  threatened  to  conduct  her  passengers  to  the 
bottom.  He  informed  me  in  unmistakable  words  that  his 
contract  was  at  an  end ;  that  he  ha^i  traveled  the  two 
hundred  miles,  which  completed  our  agreement,  and  if 
we  wanted  to  go  any  further  a  new  deal  would  have  to 
be  made.  There  was  still  five  miles  to  travel  before 
reaching  our  destination.  I  inquired  of  him  what  he 
\\  .iiited.  He  very  bluntly  told  me  that  he  would  not  go 
the  remaining  five  miles  for  less  than  one  hundred  dol- 


A  Stampede  for  Gold.  83 

lars,  which  was  twenty-five  dollars  more  than  the  pre- 
ceding two  hundred  miles  had  cost  us.  I  saw  that  there 
was  no  use  in  arguing  the  point  with  our  headstrong 
commander  and  reluctantly  gave  up  another  hundred 
dollars  for  more  experience,  which  we  seemed  to  be  out 
for  in  full  force.  After  settling  with  our  captain,  the 
old  steamer  resumed  her  snail's  pace  and  finally  fetched 
up  at  the  entrance  of  Peril  Straits,  where  she  dropped 
anchor,  and  all  were  -in  readiness  to  climb  the  adjacent 
mountains  in  search  of  our  dreamed  of  bonanza. 

During  the  trip  I  had  been  questioning  my  new 
partner  about  the  distance  of  his  discovery  from  the 
beach  and  many  other  things  connected  with  it,  and  I 
imagined  that  I  saw  a  number  of  deviations  from  his 
original  statements.  However,  there  was  sufficient  enthus- 
iasm left  to  run  it  down  to  a  finish.  I  left  the  boat,  still 
having  hopes  in  the  ultimate  result.  We  wandered  up 
through  a  dense  growth  of  underbrush  and  devil-club. 
The  latter  shrub  stands  always  ready  to  be  grasped  by 
the  tired  mountain  climber  when  about  to  lose  his  footing, 
but  like  the  hornet,  it  will  not  stand  squeezing  without 
making  its  stinger  felt.  Our  climb  continued  to  an  eleva- 
tion of  some  two  thousand  feet,  with  a  falling  rain  and 
snow  that  made  the  journey  anything  but  pleasant.  After 
reaching  the  supposed  height  of  the  ledge,  we  wandered 
back  and  forth  without  any  particular  point  in  view,  and 
finally  I  asked  him  if  he  could  not  locate  some  point 
from  which  we  could  start  and  succeed  in  finding  the 
ledge.  He  admitted  that  he  had  not  gone  up  the  way 
we  had,  but  had  come  down  that  way,  and  that  he  had 
lost  his  bearings.  I  told  him  that  it  seemed  as  if  a 
person  who  had  come  down  over  -a  trail  certainly  should 


84  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

be  able  to  find  the  point  of  location  on  a  return  trip. 
After  another  weary  hour  of  wandering  around  through 
the  slush,  I  became  somewhat  discouraged  and  told  him 
that  if  he  thought  best  we  would  go  back  and  make  the 
journey  the  way  he  formerly  had.  To  this  I  received  a 
pert  reply,  to  the  effect  that  he  guessed  he  knew  where 
it  was.  "If  you  do/'  said  I,  "you  had  better  find  it, 
and  if  you  have  led  me  off  on  this  wild  goose  chase,  you 
had  better  say  your  prayers." 

After  a  brief  exchange  of  words  I  became  thoroughly 
convinced  that  I  had  been  duped,  and  to  demonstrate 
my  feelings,  started  towards  him  with  a  clinched  fist.  At 
this  he  broke  down  the  mountain  at  steps  ranging  any- 
where from  five  to  twenty  feet,  and  I  followed  in  hot 
pursuit,  but  he  had  the  start  of  me  and  kept  it. 

I  finally  reached  the  landing  opposite  our  boat  with- 
out any  prospector  being  in  sight.  I  called  for  the  boat, 
which  was  immediately  brought.  The  skipper  informed 
me  that  my  new  partner  had  reached  the  beach  about 
fifteen  minutes  before;  had  not  waited  for  the  yawl,  but 
had  plunged  into  the  water  and  swam  to  th*e  steamer; 
that  they  had  pulled  him  aboard  and  he  was  now  crouched 
behind  the  coal  bunkers  drying  out. 

It  is  useless  for  rne  to  try  to  tell  what  my  feelings 
were  after  summing  up  the  result  of  this  trip.  However, 
I  ordered  the  steamer  to  return  to  Juneau.  On  our 
return  trip  we  undertook  to  make  a  short  cut,  avoiding 
the  main  channel  of  Linn  Canal,  but  night  came  on  and 
we  were  compelled  to  run  under  a  slow  bell,  for  fear  of 
encountering  islands  or  reefs,  the  location  of  which  we 
knew  nothing  about.  We  kept  two  lookouts  in  case  of 


A  Stampede  for  Gold.  85 

meeting  with  any  obstacles.  After  a  run  of  an  hour  or 
two  in  this  way,  one  of  the  men  on  board  shouted,  '  *  Back 
up!  Rocks  ahead!"  We  came  to  a  standstill  and  found 
that  our  boat  had  been  running  parallel  with  a  reef 
some  distance  and  was  within  ten  feet  of  a  big  rock.  We 
lowered  our  skiff,  took  a  lantern  and  went  in  search  of  a 
harbor,  but  not  until  daylight  dawned  did  we  get  any 
relief,  only  drifted  with  the  tide,  which  fortunately  was 
not  against  us.  During  the  day,  however,  we  reached 
Kilisnoo,  where  we  returned  our  borrowed  boat  and 
started  for  home. 

During  the  afternoon  another  heavy  storm  arose  and 
we  sought  shelter  in  a  small  cove,  where  we  lay  for  three 
days,  waiting  for  the  storm  to  subside  so  that  we  could 
resume  our  journey,  at  the  end  of  which  time  we  finally 
rounded  Point  Retreat  and  succeeded  in  getting  home 
after  having  a  trip  of  nine  days. 

During  this  time  our  "prospector"  kept  below  decks 
and  within  his  hole,  but  not  without  the  fingers  of  scorn 
from  our  entire  party  being  pointed  towards  him,  and 
it  would  not  have  taken  much  persuasion  to  have  given 
him  a  bath  that  would  have  lasted  him  until  the  day  of 
Judgment. 

On  arriving  at  Douglas  Island,  we  found  that  the  two 
sloops  which  had  started  to  follow  us  had  not  yet  returned 
and  a  search  party  had  been  sent  for  them.  They  finally 
returned  after  an  absence  of  fourteen  days,  no  richer, 
other  than  in  experience,  than  when  they  started.  They 
had  been  storm -bound  a  large  portion  of  the  time. 

The  motive  of  our  erstwhile  partner  in  leading  us  on 
this  fruitless  expedition  was  to  obtain  cheap  transports- 


86  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

tion  to  Sitka,  where  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  jump  us,  but 
he  failed  as  signally  in  his  undertaking  as  we  did  in 
finding  our  visioned  vault  of  golden  treasure. 


THE    MIDNIGHT    SUN. 


Social    Hall,   Steamship    Elder,  Sept.   19,    1889.  No.   1. 


Published  by  the  Editors,  Edited  by  the  Publishers.  On  board 
Steamship  Geo.  W.  Elder — return  trip  from  Alaska.  Object,  amuse- 
ment combined  with  charity.  Terms:  25  cents  to  end  of  voyage;  single 
copies,  .10  cents. 


Charity  covers  a  multitude  of  sins. 


SALUTATORY. 

There  is  no  excuse  for  the  existence  of  this  elegant 
and  progressive  journal.  Even  if  there  were  excuses  to 
be  made,  there  would  be  no  one  to  offer  them,  for  it  has 
the  distinction  of  being  published  without  an  editor,  a 
force,  a  proof-reader,  a  compositor  or  a  press.  It  is  a 
proof  positive  of  the  truth  of  evolution.  It  sprang  from 
an  intellectual  proto-plasm.  In  skipping  the  sponge 
period,  however,  it  differs  from  man.  Though  the 
remarks  contained  in  this  journal  go  thundering  down 
the  corridors  of  time,  they  have  never  been  sponged  from 
papers  of  less  dignified  extraction  and  have  the  rare 
merit  of  being  original.  There  are  new  things  under  the 
Midnight  Sun  and  to  these  the  attention  of  the  intrepid 
voyagers  on  the  staunch  steamer  Elder  is  disrespectfully 
called.  The  subscription  fund  will  be  devoted  to  a  pur- 
pose which  all  our  readers  will  be  glad  of  an  opportunity 
of  contributing  to. 


The  Midnight  Sun.  87 

THE    SILENT     CITY. 

When  the  heart  is  weary  with  longing, 

And  the  soul  is  burdened  with  care, 
I  lay  down  each  duty  and  burden 

And  flee  to  my  castle  in  air. 

This  castle  of  mine  is  most  dazzling, 

It  towers  high  up  in  the  air; 
It  stands  in  the  vale  of  enchantment, 

Filled  with  pictures  most  wondrous  and  rare. 

Here  I  revel  in  visions  ecstatic, 

No  thought  of  life's  sorrows  or  pain 
E'er  passes  this  threshold  of  fancy, 

This  beautiful  Castle  in  Spain. 

Here  a  face  dearer  far  than  all  others, 

Comes  nearer  and  nearer  to  me, 
And  a  voice  like  the  song  of  the  Siren 

Makes  blissful  the  moments  that  flee. 

For  nought  would  I  barter  my  title, 

My  right  to  this  Castle  in  Air, 
The  key  to  my  dreamland  and  fancy, 

My  refuge  from  gloom  and  despair. 

And  when  I  awake  from  my  fiction 

And  realize  that  this  is  a  snare, 
Return  me,  return  me,  to  slumbers, 

My  Dreamland  and  Castle  in  Air. 


POLICE  COURT. 

His  Honor  Deacon  Wilson  on  the  Bench ! 

Complaint  having  been  lodged  by  Governor  Snyder 
of  South  Carolina  that  his  cap  had  been  stolen  from  a 
table  outside  of  Mrs.  Guernsey's  door,  while  engaged  in 
playing  a  game  of  "draw  poker"  with  Mrs.  Beach,  Mrs. 
Hubbard  and  Mrs.  Gunner,  warrants  were  issued  for  the 
arrest  of  Mrs.  Guernsey,  Miss  Guernsey,  Miss  Eagan,  and 


88  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

Captain  Hunter,  all  of  whom  were  brought  before  the 
court.  Mrs.  and  Miss  Guernsey  and  Miss  Eagan  proved 
an  alibi,  were  discharged,  but  suspicion  was  so  strongly 
directed  toward  Captain  Hunter,  that  by  an  order  of  the 
court  his  stateroom  was  searched  and  the  cap  discovered. 
Captain  Hunter,  in  his  affection  for  his  only  daughter, 
"Flossie"  Hunter,  had  purloined  Governor  Snyder's  cap, 
deeming  it  none  too  good  for  a  head  rest  for  the  lovely 
brunette.  The  court  was  evidently  much  touched  by  the 
paternal  affection  of  Captain  Hunter,  and  with  voice 
trembling  with  emotion  and  his  eyes  swimming  in  tears, 
sentenced  the  horror  stricken  culprit  to  play  "Old  Black 
Joe"  on  his  violin  at  the  next  social  reunion  of  the 
Happy  Family,  while  the  entire  court  joined  in  the  chorus. 
The  sentence  will  be  carried  into  effect  this  evening. 


Special  Correspondence  of  the  Sun. 

A  third  attempt  by  some  of  the  more  persevering  pas- 
sengers of  the  Elder  to  reach  the  beautiful  lake  at  Loring 
resulted  in  a  success.  At  twilight  a  boat  was  lowered, 
with  the  esteemed  third  officer  in  command.  A  half  hour's 
pull  brought  the  party  to  the  shores  of  the  outlet.  The 
lake  was  clouded  with  mist,  the  mosses  and  sweeping 
ferns  were  wet,  the  roar  of  the  cascade  most  wonderful. 
Was  it  strange  that  the  wanderers  fancied  themselves 
surrounded  by  the  spirits  of  departed  warriors,  who  had 
trod  these  shores  through  unrecorded  ages?  Suddenly 
they  were  startled  by  the  sharp  report  of  a  pistol;  some 
one  was  experimenting  with  the  famous  echo.  It  came 
back,  first  faint  and  then  louder,  at  last  dying  away  like 
a  sigh.  On  returning  to  the  landing  a  cry  of  consterna- 
tion went  up— the  boat  had  gone  to  the  ship !  Consola- 


The  Midnight  Sun.  89 

tion  was  needed.  In  darkness  and  mist  there  is  no 
consolation  like  fire.  Shavings  were  found,  a  fire  built, 
and-  around  its  cheerful  radiation  the  party  sang— and 
shivered.  The  boat  came  back  in  an  hour  and' the  home- 
ward sail  was  one  with  which  a  poet  would  deal  more 
fittingly  than  your  correspondent.  The  stars  twinkled 
over  head  and  to  every  dip  of  the  oar  the  waters  glowed 
as  with  a  silver  flame.  Now  and  then  a  salmon  sprang 
from  the  deep,  high  up  in  air,  rebounding  to  fill  the  water 
and  air  with  sparks  of  light,  beautiful  as  dew-drops 
shimmering  in  the  rays  of  the  silver  moon.  The  steamer 
now  appeared  a  floating  palace,  laying  all  resplendent 
with  lights  gleaming  like  friendly  beacons  in  the  distance. 
Upon  arrival  lunch  was  served,  and  with  "good  night" 
upon  each  lip,  each  sought  rest  amid  the  luxurious  and 
commodious  couches  of  the  steamer.  N.  S.  S. 


Mrs.  Baker  has  resigned  her  lucrative  position  as  a 
weather  prophet.  The  position  is  open  to  the  first 
applicant. 


OBITUARY. 

The  passengers  on  the  S.  S.  Elder  desire  to  express 
their  deep  sympathy  with  Mrs.  Flossie  Hunter  in  the 
death  of  her  twin  children,  Daisy  Eagan  and  Wallace 
Hunter. 

Two  little  puppies  born  out  at  sea, 

One  was  Daisy,  the  other  Daisee. 

They  never  had  chance  for  frolic  and  fun, 

For  their  eyes  ne'er  ope'd  on  the  rising  sun. 


90  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

It  was  particularly  requested  that  "no  flowers"  be 
sent,  as  the  interment  was  to  be  strictly  private,  for 

We  buried  them  deep  at  dead  of  night, 
While  phosphoric  lights  were  gleaming; 

Not  a  sailor  gave  forth  his  farewell  song    . 

O'er  the  grave  where  our  puppies  lie  dreaming. 

F.  G. 


PROGRAMME,    SEPT.    19,    1889. 

1.  Song Major  Allen 

2.  Recitation  (by  request)   Mrs.  E.  W.  Peattie 

3.  Music— Piano  Solo  Miss  Daisy  Eagan 

4.  Song  Mrs.  Baker 

5.  Recitation   Doctor  Guernsey 

6.  Recitation,  by  I.  B.  Hammond   Mr.  Fred  - 

7.  Music  and  Song— " Old  Black  Joe"  (company  chorus).. 

Captain  Hunter 

8.  Gude  Neicht. 


Matter     intended     for     Friday's     edition    should   be 
handed  in  by  ten  o'clock  A.  M. 


SIWASH     SCINTILLATIONS. 

Where  do  all  Alaska  roads  lead  ?  Where,  but  to  Loring. 


Where  was  Moses  when  the  light  went  out  ?    Ans. :   On 
the  forecastle  deck. 


A  premium  is  offered  to   the  man    (women   barred) 
who  knows  who  George  W.  Elder  was,  is  or  may  be. 


The  Midnight  Sun.  91 

Why  is  Alaska  a  great  monarchy?     Because  she  has 
an  unbroken  succession  of  reigns. 


A  superior  Siwash  perfume  can  be  obtained  of  Yealth 
Bros.,  Kassan  Bay.     Sample  smells  given  away. 


Although  the  voyagers  on  the  Elder  have  been  sur- 
rounded with  mist,  it  is  conceded  that  nothing  has  missed 
them. 


If  Capt.  James  C.  Hunter— may  his  tribe  increase- 
be  the  Elder  Captain,  how  can  he  be  younger  than  any 
other  commander? 


Why  has  not  the  Governor  of  North  Carolina  been 
heard  to  make  his  time  honored  and  plaintive  remark  to 
the  Governor  of  South  Carolina  so  frequently  of  late? 
Because  there  is  no  longer  any  whiskey  on  board.  Alas 
and  alack-a-day. 

ADVERTISEMENTS. 

Inserted  at  Alaskan  rates — "Sickem"  dollar  per  line,  strictly  in 
advance. 

Notice — Dresses,  shoes,  hats,  gloves,  and  all  similar 
superfluities  taken  in  exchange  for  totems,  mats,  brace- 
lets or  other  necessaries  required  by  tourists.  N.  B.— A 
choice  assortment  of  perfumes  always  on  hand  by  Jim 
Siwash,  Burroughs  Bay. 


Wanted— To  correspond  with  a  young  lady  with  ten 
or  eleven  children  (slightly  cross-eyed  preferred),  by  a 
gentleman  of  means  and  leisure.  No  triflers.  Address 
Max  E.  D.  E.  N.,  this  office. 


92  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

Wanted— Five  hundred  men  to  cut  ice  in  Glacier  Bay, 
to  clear  the  Steamship  Elder's  way.    Apply  on  board. 


Dry  Goods — Clothing,  boots  and  shoes — warranted  all 
second-hand.    Address  Stateroom  B,  S.  S.  Elder. 


Wanted— An  Alaska  tourist  who  has  not  a  curio. 
Apply  to  freight  clerk.  

This  was  written  by  James.  Calderwood  in  roman  letters  with  a 
pen,  and  copied  on  a  bill  of  fare  copy  press,  and  each  member  was 
given  a  copy. 


A    TIDAL   WAVE. 

While  in  Alaska  in  the  year  1887,  I  had  an  experience 
that  will  long  satisfy  my  desire  to  navigate  Glacier  Bay 
in  front  of  the  Pacific  Glacier.  Were  it  not  for  the 
sagacity  of  the  Indians  that  accompanied  me,  I  think 
there  would  have  been  a  long  time  between  scenes,  or 
at  least  there  might  have  been  serious  trouble.  I  am 
perfectly  willing  to  give  the  Siwash  credit  for  fully  under- 
standing the  action  of  those  peculiar  kinds  of  tidal  waves. 

These  waves  are  caused  by  the  breaking  of  the  ice, 
which  in  crowding  its  way  into  the  ocean,  forces  its  front 
beyond  the  land.  This  front  or  face  in  time  becomes  too 
heavy  to  bear  its  own  weight,  and  so,  with  a  wild  roar 
like  sharp  peals  of  thunder,  breaks  off  in  vast  slabs  and 
descends  into  the  ocean,  there  to  be  buried  with  a  plunge 
which  sends  forth  waves  like  mountains,  which  travel 
with  wonderful  rapidity  from  shore  to  shore  along  the 
straits,  and  finally  spend  their  force  upon  reaching  the 
open  ocean. 

Upon  hearing  the  "fishy"  tales  of  wonderful  finds  of 
rich  mines,  that  are  spun  by  the  prospectors  along  the 


A  Tidal  Wave.  93 

Alaska  coast,  one  is  liable  to  take  a  risk,  through  ignor- 
ance of  the  country,  that  he  would  consider  foolhardy 
after  years  of  experience.  However,  we  all  have  to  get 
our  experience,  and  I  will  give  you  a  little  of  mine  on 
that  occasion. 

I  was  told  by  an  old  miner  of  a  very  fine  prospect 
which  he  wished  me  to  go  and  examine.  At  that  time  I 
was  unable  to  accompany  him  on  his  return  to  his  claim, 
but  promised  to  come  a  few  days  later.  He  gave  me  the 
directions  and  told  me  where  I  could  get  some  Indians 
that  would  take  me  to  his  camp  when  I  was  ready  to 
make  the  trip.  As  soon  as  possible  I  got  two  Indians 
with  a  large  canoe  and  started  for  the  mine.  We  had  a 
long  distance  to  travel,  and  during  the  still  night  while 
on  our  journey  we  could  hear  the  ice  break  for  a  distance 
of  over  twenty  miles,  and  at  times  there  were  large  waves 
rolling  up  the  straits  that  were  like  heavy  ocean  swells. 

After  traveling  two  days  and  nights  we  reached  the 
head  of  Glacier  Bay,  below  the  Pacific  Glacier,  which  has 
a  body  of  ice  fully  seven  and  a  half  miles  in  width  and 
a  height  from  the  water's  edge  to  the  top  of  the  face  of 
the  broken  ice  from  three  hundred  to  seven  hundred  feet, 
and  this  ponderous  mass  of  ice  is  moving  slowly  but  irre- 
sistably  into  the  ocean.  If  one  could  measure  the  bulk 
of  ice  that  breaks  off. daily  it  would  be  found  to  greatly 
exceed  in  size  any  block  of  buildings  in  the  United  States, 
and  many  times  there  are  pieces  of  ice  that  break  off 
which  are  fully  a  mile  in  length  and  from  fifty  to  one 
hundred  feet  thick  (back  from  the  edge)  and  fully  six 
hundred  feet  in  height.  With  this  immense  body  of  solid 
ice  thrown  into  the  sea  from  such  a  height,  one  can  but 
faintly  imagine  the  result. 


94  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

The  sound  of  thunder  is  tame  by  the  roar  of  the 
breaking  of  this  falling  mass,  and  still  less  is  the  noise 
of  the  descending  ice  when  compared  with  the  roaring  of 
ten  thousand  icebergs  that  have  broken  off  and  are  laying 
Avhere  they  have  been  huddled  together  by  the  wind  that 
is  constantly  blowing  off  the  face  of  the  glacier  and 
driving  the  ice  back  up  the  straits,  where  it  is  met  by  the 
tide  and  kept  jammed  together,  covering  thousands  of 
acres.  These  icebergs  range  in  size  from  a  few  hundred 
pounds  to  hundreds  of  feet  in  diameter.  And  with  one 
of  those  tidal  waves  rolling  into  this  field  of  floating  ice, 
it  sends  each  berg  to  and  fro,  rubbing  and  grinding,  one 
against  the  other.  Then  comes  the  sound  that  quiets  all 
others. 

After  we  arrived  at  the  head  of  the  bay  and  looked 
in  wonder  at  the  beauty  and  grandeur  that  Nature  has 
put  in  motion,  that  has  continued  and  will  last  thousands 
of  years.  We  started  to  cross  the  broad  channel  in  front 
of  the  glacier;  and  as  we  paddled  our  canoe,  we  stopped 
now  and  then  and  listened  to  the  constant  roar  of  the 
breaking  ice  and  gazed  into  the  immense  caverns  of  ice 
running  back  into  the  body  of  the  glacier. 

Here  the  Indians  seemed  anxious  to  push  the  huge 
canoe  through  the  water  much  faster  than  before,  and 
wanted  me  to  act  as  steersman,  which  I  did,  being  much 
pleased  to  have  them  show  a  better  will  to  .work  than 
at  any  time  during  our  journey.  However,  we  had  not 
progressed  more  than  two  or  three  miles  when  from  the 
highest  front  'of  the  glacier  there  came  a  roar,  and  with 
it  the  front  of  the  glacier  sank  into  the  ocean  and  was 
buried  with  a  plunge  that  sent  a  wave  like  a  mountain 


96  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

toward  our  frail  craft  with  great  speed,  and  as  it  passed 
many  icebergs  and  swallowed  them  up  by  its  rolling 
motion,  I  felt  as  though  our  canoe  would  soon  be  in  the 
same  fix.  The  Indian's  knowledge  came  into  play,  and 
in  his  own  language  he  cried,  'rHyack,  Hyack,"  and 
pointed  for  me  to  steer  the  canoe  toward  the  coming 
wave,  at  the  same  time  paddling  with  all  force. 

We  had  some  time  to  wait  for  the  wave  to  reach  us, 
and  had  gained  considerable  headway  before  the  wave 
struck  us,  but  most  unexpectedly  to  me,  I  felt  our 
canoe  ride  well  up  the  side  of  the  wave  and  then 
seemingly  stop  and  start  back  with  the  wave.  The 
Indian  again  yelled  "Hyack,  Hyack, "  which  was  their 
word  for  hurry.  They  sprang  heavily  on  their  pad- 
dles, but  still  we  went  with  the  wave,  stern  first,  each 
minute  expecting  to  lose  control  of  the  canoe,  and  be 
rolled  over  and  close  the  scene.  Still  we  managed  to 
keep  head  on,  and  our  boat  spun  through  the  water  like 
a  porpoise,  while  we  were  fast  approaching  the  flow  of 
ice  that  lay  back  of  us.  One  of  the  Indians,  seeing  we 
could  not  mount  the  wave,  stooped  and  grasped  the  large 
stone  anchor  that  was  tied  to  the  bow  of  our  boat  and 
heaved  it  overboard.  Our  canoe  brought  up  against  the 
line  so  sharply  that  it  seemed  as  though  it  would  jerk 
its  fastening  loose,  but  to  my  great  surprise  we  mounted 
the  wave  and  in  an  instant  were  over  its  crest  on 
the  down  hill  side,  and  in  a  few  minutes  all  danger  was 
past,  as  each  following  wave  was  smaller.  The  throwing 
of  the  anchor  overboard  made  such  a  resistance  in  the 
water  that  it  pulled  the  boat  over  the  crest  of  the  wave 
and  stopped  our  backward  rush  to  the  floating  ice,  which 
would  have  ground  our  frail  craft  into  pieces  had  it  not 


A  Glacier.  97 

been  for  the  knowledge  of  the  Indians,  who  fully  under- 
stood the  action  of  the  waves  and  knew  what  to  do  in 
time  of  need. 

We  waited  for  the  waves  to  subside,  then  pulled 
our  anchor  on  board  and  bent  heavily  on  the  paddles 
until  we  reached  the  shore,  where  I  expected  to  find  a 
rich  mine,  which  Nature  had  hidden  from  the  roving 
prospectors  for  many  years,  to  be  discovered  by  an  old 
friend  of  mine  from  the  Black  Hills — John  Allen.  To 
my  regret  it  did  not  enthuse  me,  and  once  more  I  charged 
experience  with  seeing  a  most  wonderful  freak  of  Nature, 
but  I  am  willing  to  be  satisfied  with  one  experience  of 
riding  a  tidal  wave. 

On  the  return  trip  we  saw  some  small  pieces  of  ice 
break  off,  but  they  did  not  create  much  of  a  wave,  and 
we  finally  reached  Douglas  Island  with  no  further 
excitement. 

A    GLACIER. 

Up  Alaska's  rocky  shores,  where  the  summer  sun  prolongs  the 

day  until  morn, 
But  in  the  winter  they  fade  away,  and  shorten  down  to  but 

four  hours  for  a  day. 

There  the  mountains  are  high  and  the  ravines  are  deep. 
The  growth  of  vegetation  has  long  been  at  sleep, 
Wrapped  in  their  mantles  of  ice  and  of  snow, 
Awaiting  the  actions  of  time  to  tell  them  to  grow. 

But  the  glaciers,  how  grand!     What  power  they  present, 
With    their   ponderous    weight    and   motion    that    the    world's 

nations  can  not  resist;' 

They  crowd  down  the  mountains  to  the  water  so  deep, 
And  with  their  huge  masses  of  ice  and  of  snow, 
They  appear  like  a  great  mystery  put  into  motion 
That  will  last  thousands  of  years. 


98  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

To  imagine  their  origin  and  hunt  up  their  source, 

Would  be  going  back  centuries  to  find  not  a  trace  to  start  them, 

While  they  so  grandly  appear,  to  the  edge  of  the  ocean  they 

crowd  and  they  shear, 
Cntil  their  huge  masses  no  longer  can  stand  the  strain  of  their 

.    weight ; 
With  a  wild  roar  like  sharp  peals  of  thunder  they  loosen  their 

hold 
And  descend  into  the  ocean  to  be  buried  with  a  plunge,  that 

sends  forth    waves  like   mountains. 

They  rise  and  they  fall,  with  the  tide  for  their  power; 
They  float  out  to  .ocean  and  there  melt  away. 
With  the  warm  wind  like   the  heat  from  a  furnace  that  fans 

the  broad  ocean, 

They  rise  in  vapor  and  are  turned  into  rain, 
There  to  fall  on  the  mountains  and  take  the  form  of  a  glacier 

again. 


A    TRIP    TO    THE    SEVEN    DEVILS    MOUNTAIN. 

Some  twelve  years  ago  I  joined  Jonathan  Bourne,  Jr., 
in  sending  a  mining  engineer  to  the  various  mining  camps 
for  the  purpose  of  buying-  or  locating  mining  properties. 
We  made  arrangements  with  S.  K.  Bradford  to  act  in 
that  capacity.  He  was  to  travel  through  the  many  new 
camps  then  being  opened  up,  as  well  as  to  the  old  ones. 
NVw  finds  being  reported  nearly  every  day  in  the  Seven" 
Devils  Mountains  in  Idaho,  we  decided  to  have  him  inves- 
tigate this  new  district.  During-  the  summer  he  located 
a  number  of  gold  claims  in  the  Placer  Basin,  situated  at 
the  head  of  Bear  Creek,  in  the  south  end  of  the  Seven 
Devils  Mountain,  Washington  County,  Idaho.  He  also 
secured  a  bond  on  some  copper  properties  in  the  north 
end  of  these  mountains  and  located  quite  a  number  of 
others.  In  October  1  started  out  on  a  tour  of  inspection. 


A  Trip  to  the  Seven  Devils.  99 

We  had  decided  to  attempt  to  open  the  copper  mines 
during  the  winter,  as  they  were  situated  in  a  low  altitude 
on  the  banks  of  the  Snake  River,  where  the  snows  would 
not  interfere  with  the  winter  work. 

At  Salubria,  Idaho,  we  purchased  large  quantities  of 
tools,  provisions,  powder  and  vegetables,  and  loading  the 
same  on  a  large  freighting  outfit,  sent  them  to  the  Little 
Salmon  Meadow,  the  end  of  the  wagon  road.  There  the 
freighters  were  to  make  arrangements  with  a  pack  train 
to  carry  the  goods  over  the  old  Boise  Basin  and  Lewiston 
pack  trail  to  Warwick's  Bar  on  Snake  River,  just  below 
our  copper  mine.  As  soon  as  the  goods  were  loaded,  Mr. 
Bradford  and  myself  started  to  the  Placer  Basin.  After 
examining  this  property,  we  secured  two  pack  animals 
and  one  saddle  animal,  which  we  loaded  with  provisions 
and  blankets  and  started  for  the  copper  mine. 

We  left  the  Placer  Basin  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  and  at  about  dark  camped  at  the  foot  of 
Smith's  Mountain.  After  picketing  our  horses,  we  spread 
our  blankets  down  and  went  to  bed.  About  1  A.  M.  we 
were  awakened  by  our  horses  trying  to  get  away.  They 
were  tugging  at  the  picket  ropes,  snorting  and  giving 
every  evidence  of  great  terror.  We  could  hear  animals 
running  but  could  not  see  them  on  account  of  the  dark- 
ness. Finally  a  large  buck  came  tearing  down  the  moun- 
tain through  our  camp  and  nearly  over  our  beds.  The 
deer  was  followed  by  some  animal.  We  could  not  see 
whether  it  was  a  mountain  lion  or  a  bear.  However,  w 
fired  a  few  shots  at  it  and  went  back  to  bed.  The  deer 
staid  around  our  camp  iintil  nearly  daylight,  evidently 
fearing  us  less  than  the  wild  animals. 


100  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

We  were  up  and  away  shortly  after  daylight.  The 
country  was  very  abrupt  and  rocky.  The  trail  was  very 
dim,  being  simply  an  old  Indian  trail.  Certainly  the  man 
who  named  these  mountains  the  Seven  Devils  had  a  head 
on  him  as  long  as  a  fish  pole.  His  only  error  was  in  the 
number — he  should  have  said  seventy  instead  of  seven. 
During  the  day  I  killed  a  great  number  of  mountain 
grouse.  The  country  was  full  of  them.  I  had  never  seen 
them  in  any  such  numbers  in  any  part  of  the  west.  We 
traveled  all  day,  up  and  down  rocky  ridges  and  along 
the  sides  of  various  steep  mountains,  but  we  could  not 
find  a  place  suitable  for  a  camp.  About  dark  we  came 
to  a  point  where  the  entire  surface  of  the  mountain  side 
had  slid  down,  leaving  a  mass  of  fallen  trees  and  boulders 
through  which  it  was  impossible  to  pass.  The  elevation 
was  then  about  7,000  feet.  Mr.  Bradford  was  leading 
one  pack  animal,  the  other  two  horses  were  following 
and  I  was  bringing  up  the  rear.  We  decided  that  the 
only  thing  we  could  do  was  to  try  to  pass  down  around 
the  lower  end  of  the  slide. 

After  about  two  hours  travel  through  the  dark,  we 
reached  the  lower  end  of  the  slide  and  rounding  it, 
started  up  on  the  other  side.  Here  was  where  my  friend 
Bradford  had  me  on  the  point  of  surrendering  the  belt 
as  the  champion  mountain  climber.  In  my  desperate 
struggle  not  to  be  outdone,  I  grasped  the  tail  of  the  rear 
pack  horse  and  wound  the  long  hair  around  my  arm 
and  let  the  panting  beast  pull  me  up  the  mountain  side. 
This  gave  me  a  rest,  and  I  was  able  to  say,  "Push  on, 
old  man,  I'm  with  you."  This  was  a  mean  trick,  but  it 
saved  me  from  being  compelled  to  cry  ' '  Quits. ' ' 

However,  about    midnight    we    reached    the    summit, 


A  Trip  to  the  Seven  Devils.  101 

3,000  feet  above  the  lower  edge  of  the  slide.  Following 
the  backbone  of  the  summit  for  about  a  mile,  we  came 
to  a  small  saddle  in  the  mountains  large  enough  to  spread 
our  blankets  on  and  camped  here  for  the  night.  We 
were  compelled  to  melt  snow  for  water  with  which  to 
cook  our  supper  and  for  our  horses  to  drink.  The  next 
day  we  succeeded  in  reaching  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
at  the  Pollock  Ranch  on  Rapid  River.  Here  we  remained 
for  the  night  and  the  next  morning  pushed  on  for  the 
copper  mine. 

During  the  day  we  met  a  man  by  the  name  of  Collins, 
who  gave  us  directions  for  making  «a  cut-off  which  would 
save  us  some  ten  miles  travel.  We  took  his  advice, 
although  at  one  time  it  seemed  it  would  be  the  means  of 
losing  all.  of  our  pack  animals.  Whether  the  gentleman 
knew  that  the  trail  had  been  washed  out  or  not,  I  am  not 
prepared  to  say,  but  was  told  he  said  he  would  have  what 
was  left  of  that  pack  train  the  following  day.  However, 
he  missed  his  calculation,  although  I  would  have  sold 
cheap,  if  there  had  been  a  buyer,  long  before  night.  A 
little  before  dark  we  came  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
overlooking  Snake  River.  Some  five  thousand  feet  below 
us,  and  almost  within  a  stone's  throw  horizontally,  were 
the  plunging,  seething  waters  of  the  Snake  River,  as  it 
wound  its  way  in  the  sinuous  manner  of  the  snake 
through  the  narrow  gorge  forming  its  rocky  bank.  The 
opposite  bank  sloped  back  into.  Oregon,  with  bunches  of 
timber  and  parks  intervening.  I  gazed  at  all  this  grandeur 
and  felt  called  upon  to  bring  the  camera  into  play,  that 
I  might  preserve  this  beautiful  view.  After  taking  a 
number  of  views  we  started  to  descend  the  mountain, 
knowing  that  a  mis-step  by  man  or  beast  would  hurl  us 


102  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life, 

down  into  Snake  River  thousands  of  feet  below.  We1 
had  not  gone  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  when  we 
came  to  a  small  landslide  in  a  gulch,  which  had  evidently 
occurred  quite  recently,  and  carried  away  our  trail,  leav- 
ing the  rocks  perfectly  bare  in  the  bottom  of  the  gulch. 
The  perpendicular  walls  rising  on  the  side  of  the  trail 
made  it  impossible  for  our  pack  animals  to  turn  around 
without  throwing  them  off  the  trail  down  into  Snake 
River,  some  thousands  of  feet  below. 

I  was  in  the  lead  and  on  seeing  the  condition  of  the 
trail  called  to  Bradford,  who  was  bringing  up  the  rear, 
that  we  w~ere  almost .  certain  to  lose  our  stock  if  we 
attempted  to  cross  the  break.  Stopping  the  pack  animals, 
I  went  to  the  edge  of  the  wash-outs  and  by  sticking  my 
toes  into  the  cracks  in  the  rocks,  was  able  to  reach  the 
other  side.  As  I  stood  there,  pondering  over  our  hopeless 
situation,  the  head  pack  animal  started  down  the  trail 
towards  the  wash-out.  I  was  unable  to  stop  him  and 
could  only  shout  "Whoa,"  but  that  was  not  heeded  until 
he  came  within  thirty  feet  of  the  wash-out,  when  he 
stopped  and  looked  at  the  gap  which  cut  the  trail  com- 
pletely in  two.  He  turned  his  head  around,  looked  up 
the  trail  back  of  him,  saw  it  was  utterly  impossible  to 
turn  around  without  falling  in  the  river  below,  then 
started  forward  on  a  trot,  and  with  a  bound  cleared  the 
gap  and  scrambled  up  the  opposite  side.  Each  of  the 
other  animals  followed,  stopped  at  about  the  same  place, 
looked  around,  and,  seeming  to  realize  the  hopelessness 
of  attempting  to  turn,  rushed  forward,  cleared  the  gap 
and  scrambled  up  on  the  other  side,  their  packs  rubbing 
against  the  overhanging  rocks,  but,  fortunately,  it  did 
not  throw  any  of  them  down  the  mountain. 


A  Trip  to  the  Seven  Devils.  103 

Two  hours  later  found  us  at  the  camp  near  our  copper 
mine,  where  some  miners  whom  we  had  ordered  sent  in 
from  Lewiston  to  work  in  the  mines,  were  encamped. 
The  next  day  we  examined  the  copper  mines,  and  finding 
that  through  some  oversight  the  blacksmithing  outfit  had 
been  omitted,  I  took  one  of  our  men  and  a  number  of 
animals  and  started  out  for  Lewiston  to  purchase  the 
outfit.  Through  the  advice  of  Mr.  Holland  we  started 
down  Snake  River,  over  what  he  called  a  good  trail.  I 
must  say  that  in  all  of  my  mining  experience  through  the 
mountains  I  have  never  been  forced  to  travel  over  a 
rougher  trail.  Instead  of  being  ten  miles,  we  found  it 
nearly  thirty  to  the  crossing  of  the  Salmon  River.  No 
one  was  living  there,  nor  could  we  find  a  boat  or  any 
other  means  of  crossing  the  river. 

It  was  getting  late  in  the  fall,  considerable  slush  ice 
was  running  and  it  was  very  cold.  We  found  some  pieces 
of  logs,  and  taking  some  of  our  pack  ropes  made  a  small 
raft.  I  removed  all  of  my  clothing  and  placed  the  same 
upon  the  raft.  Then  tying  a  number  of  pack  ropes  to- 
gether, I  took  hold  of  the  end  of  one  of  them  and  selecting 
the  best  pack  animal  in  the  lot,  started  to  ford  the  river. 
Thinking  the  river  was  not  very  deep,  I  started  the  animal 
ahead  of  me  into  the  water,  taking  his  tail  in  one  hand 
and  the  end  of  the  rope  in  the  other.  In  less  than  ten  feet 
the  animal  was  swimming  and  the  current  was  so  swift 
that  I  could  not  get  back  if  I  wished,  so  was  compelled  to 
hold  on  to  the  horse's  tail.  The  animal  struck  out  for 
the  opposite  shore,  but  the  current  landed  him  down  the 
river  more  than  two  hundred  feet  below  where  we  started. 
I  clung  to  the  horse's  tail  with  one  hand  and  held  on  to 
the  rope  with  the  other,  but  was  nearly  chilled  through 


104  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

on  reaching  the  other  bank.  In  drawing  the  raft  across 
I  drew  it  clear  under  water  and  of  course  my  clothes 
were  just  as  wet  as  if  I  had  kept  them  on  in  the  first 
place.  Then  the  man  on  the  other  side  pulled  the  raft 
back  to  him,  loaded  it  with  our  saddles  and  camping 
outfit  and  I  pulled  it  across  the  river.  In  this  manner 
all  of  our  goods  were  brought  over.  All  of  the  horses 
having  followed  mine  across,  the  man  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river  climbed  upon  the  raft  and  I  dragged  him 
safely  over.  Our  journey  was  then  resumed  to  Grange- 
ville,  where  I  took  the  stage. 

I  have  traveled  through  all  the  mountains  of  the  West, 
through  the  Black  Hills  in  the  early  days  with  geological 
surveys,  through  the  rugged  mountains  of  Colorado,  Mon- 
tana, Washington,  Nevada  and  Alaska,  and  in  all  of  my 
experience  I  am  free  to  say  that  I  never  took  a  trip  over 
as  rough  a  country,  or  where  the  hardships  were  as 
wearing  upon  both  mind  and  body,  as  on  this  trip.  Since 
then  trails  have  been  built  and  the  trip  is  now  one  of 
comparative  ease. 


GETTING    OFF    MY   HIGH   HORSE. 

Many  years  ago,  while  helping  in  the  erection  of  a 
saw  and  grist  mill  at  Taylor's  Bend,  Arkansas,  I  had  a 
rather  laughable  adventure.  At  that  time,  however,  I 
failed  to  see  the  humor  of  the  situation. 

In  and  about  Taylor's  Bend  there  was  quite  a  sprink- 
ling of  the  Johnny  Rebs,  relics  of  the  war,  who  had  no 
use  for  us  *  'Yanks,"  as  they  called  us.  There  were  some 
persons  who  treated  us  with  every  courtesy,  but  there 
was  enough  of  the  "hobo"  element  to  make  things  un- 


Getting  Off  My  High  Horse.  105 

pleasant  for  us.  As  time  progressed  our  forces  increased, 
and  naturally  we  had  quite  a  few  agitators  among  us. 
We  kept  a  number  of  ponies  and  a  very  nice  span  of 
mules  for  running  about  with,  and  one  morning,  on  wak- 
ing, we  found  our  mules  had  vanished ;  strayed  or  stolen, 
we  knew  not  which. 

After  consulting  Mr.  Sealy,  the  proprietor  of  the  plant, 
I  started  in  search  of  the  missing  animals.  I  was  astride 
a  small  pony  and  with  much  coaxing  and  whipping  soon 
found  a  hot  trail.  My  pony,  however,  became  fagged 
and  almost  gave  up  the  race,  when  I  espied  a  few  hundred 
yards  ahead  of  me  a  man  seemingly  engaged  in  cinching 
the  saddle  girth  on  a  large,  fine-looking  animal.  On 
seeing  this  horse,  I  envied  the  owner,  and  thought  if  I 
were  astride  him  I  would  soon  be  up  with  the  mules. 

I  rode  up  and  asked  the  stranger  if  he  had  seen  my 
mules.  The  man  was  evidently  very  much  under  the 
influence  of  liquor,  but  he  told  me  he  had  seen  the  mules 
about  four  hours  since,  then  with  a  sorrowful,  sympathiz- 
ing expression  he  said  he  feared  I  would  never  catch  them 
with  "that  rat."  Naturally,  I  asked  him  how  he  would 
trade.  This  seemed  to  affect  him  deeply,  for  he  sighed, 
stroked  the  beautiful  animal's  neck  and  said  he  wouldn't 
care  to  trade  if  the  horse  were  not  so  high  he  couldn't 
get  on  him.  After  a  little  palaver  we  swapped  horses, 
I  giving  him  all  my  money  to  boot,  excepting  one  or  two 
dollars. 

He  seemed  to  feel  deeply  the  separation  from  his 
horse,  and  urged  me  to  take  good  care  of  him,  as  he  was 
an  old  favorite  of  his  family.  The  sight  of  the  money 
cheered  him  somewhat,  so  he  jumped  on  my  pony  and 


106  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

rode  off,  humming  a  lively  tune,  while  I  turned  and 
mounted  my  high  horse. 

After  a  few  desperate  jumps  in  response  to  my  nag- 
ging, the  noble  animal  I  had  just  acquired  stopped  short, 
and  breathing  like  a  steam  engine,  shivered  from  stem 
to  stern.  It  was  quite  a  minute  or  so  before  I  fully 
realized  what  had  happened  to  jne  and  that  my  high 
horse  would  be  better  stuffed  and  on  wheels  than  as  he 
was. 

My  language  when  I  thought  of  my  lost  pony  and 
money  would  have  been  resented  by  any  self-respecting 
horse,  but  the  one  I  had  purchased  had  not  enough  energy 
left  to  kick.  So  I  came  down  off  my  high  horse  and 
.hiding  my  saddle  in  the  brush  started  on  the  run  after 
my  missing  mules.  I  covered  quite  a  bit  of  ground  in 
the  next  two  hours,  and  when  night  came  on  found  my 
mules  grazing  along  the  banks  of  a  small  stream.  Near 
them  were  two  men  busily  engaged  in  cooking  their 
evening  meal,  but  who  broke  and  ran  on  seeing  me. 

Securing  the  mules,  I  started  back,  but  did  not  go  far, 
being  worn  out  with  the  exertions  of  the  day.  I  lay  down 
with  the  mules  lashed  to  my  wrist ;  but  towards  morning 
I  awoke  with  a  start  to  see  them  disappearing  over  the 
hill  with  the  thieves.  Rousing  up  I  seized  my  gun  and 
running  after  them,  fired  twice.  The  thieves  skedaddled 
as  before,  and  I  was  once  more  in  possession  of  my  mules. 

After  securing  my  horse,  I  started  for  home,  not  caring 
to  explain  what  sort  of  a  "white  elephant"  he  was, 
hoping  that  in  time  he  would  mend  or  get  his  spirit  back, 
but  I  must  say  that  we  never  got  an  hour's  work  out  of 
the  "high  horse." 


Romance  Without  Love.  107 

ROMANCE    WITHOUT    LOVE. 

While  traveling  across  the  continent  between  San 
Francisco  and  Boston,  with  intermediate  stops  at  Chicago 
and  New  York,  I  was  by  chance  brought  in  company 
with  a  most  remarkable  traveling  companion  in  the  per- 
son of  a  lady.  Had  this  journey  been  pre-arranged,  it 
could  not  possibly  have  been  carried  out  with  more  pre- 
cision as  regards  time  and  location.  I  will  attempt  to 
explain  but  a  few  of  the  coincidences  connected  with 
this  strange  acquaintance  and  our  extended  journey.  I 
say  "extended"  journey,  for  not  only  did  we  seemingly 
shadow  each  other  across  the  continent,  but  on  leaving 
Boston,  which  I  had  supposed  to  be  the  end  of  my  journey, 
I  found  that  I  would  have  this  lady's  company  for  another 
thousand  miles. 

On  leaving  Oakland  on  an  overland  Southern  Pacific 
train,  via  Ogden  and  Omaha,  I  entered  the  sleeper  for  a 
five  days'  journey  to  Chicago,  where  I  expected  to  stop 
some  eight  or  ten  days,  going  from  there  to  New  York 
and  then  on  to  Boston,  where  I  had  some  friends  who 
were  interested  with  me  in  Alaska.  I  had  chosen  a  central 
section  in  the  sleeper  some  days  in  advance,  that  I  might 
have  as  much  comfort  as  possible  on  the  journey.  By 
the  time  the  train  was  ready  to  start  the  car.  had  filled 
up  to  its  utmost  capacity,  and  on  glancing  around,  I 
noticed  a  lady  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  aisle,  who 
seemed  to  be  occupying  a  section. 

The  occupants  of  the  sleeper  all  being  strangers  to 
me,  I  retired,  and  did  not  arise  until  the  porter  called, 
telling  us  we  would  have  breakfast  in  twenty  minutes. 
I  made  haste  and  was  soon  ready  to  leave  the  car,  when 
I  noticed  that  the  platform  was  covered  with  ice.  This 


1C8  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

was  not  strange,  for  we  were  at  Truckee,  one  of  the 
highest  points  along  t*he  road.  I  stepped  from  the  car 
to  the  foot-stool,  which  rocked  and  slipped  dangerously. 
I  stopped  on  the  platform  to  see  who  would  follow  and 
what  their  experience  would  be  on  the  "shaky"  stool.  I 
was  about  to  call  the  attention  of  the  porter  to  the 
danger,  when  the  lady  whom  I  had  noticed  the  preceding 
evening,  came  down  the  steps,  and  before  the  porter 
could  caution  her,  she  stepped  on  the  stool,  which  slipped 
and  threw  her  to  the  platform  with  great  force.  I  sprang 
forward  and  with  the  help  of  another  gentleman  and 
the  porter  wre  carried  her  into  the  car.  She  seemed  to 
be  suffering  considerable  pain,  her  ankle  being  sprained. 
Upon  my  asking  her  if  I  should  order  her  some  breakfast, 
she  replied  that  I  might.  After  breakfast  I  went  through 
the  train  and  found  a  physician,  who  examined  her  ankle 
and  said  it  would  soon  be  all  right.  During  the  next 
four  days  we  had  a  number  of  conversations,  but  she  did 
not  mention  her  name  or  her  home,  simply  saying  she 
had  been  to  South  America.  On  leaving  me  at  Chicago 
she  bade  me  good  day  and  I  thought  no  more  about  her, 
until  on  entering  the  car  again  for  New  York  I  found 
this  same  lady  occupying  the  same  position  in  the  sleeper 
that  she  had  coming  across  the  continent.  I  was  sur- 
prised and  remarked  how  strange  it  was  we  should  meet 
again  and  occupy  the  same  seats  as  before.  She  seemed 
somewrhat  sarcastic,  saying  this  was  a  queer  coincidence 
and  she  hoped  she  would  not  suffer  a  fall  as  on  our  first 
meeting.  During  the  next  thirty-six  hours  she  seemed 
suspicious  of  me  and  I  said  but  little  to  her,  but  on 
leaving  the  train  I  made  the  remark  that  I  supposed  this 
would  be  the  end  of  our  journey  together,  to  which  she 


Romance  Without  Love.  109 

replied,  "Yes,  indeed;  I  have  been  thinking  how  strange 
this  second  meeting  has  been."  At  this  we  parted  and 
during  the  next  ten  days  I  saw  nothing  of  my  lady  trav- 
eling companion.  Having  completed  my  business,  I  took 
the  eleven  o'clock  P.  M.  train  for  Boston,  and  in  the 
morning  on  returning  to  my  berth,  after  completing  my 
toilet,  who  should  I  see  but  this  strange  lady  who  had 
accompanied  me  from  California,  then  met  me  in  Chicago, 
now  here  again  on  this  train  going  to  Boston.  We 
stood  gazing  at  each  other  for  a  few  seconds,  when  she 
broke  the  silence  by  saying  in  a  stern  voice,  "What  does 
this  mean?"  "Madam,"  said  I,  "this  is  unaccountable. 
You  have  my  name  and  know  my  business,  and  can  find 
people  in  Boston  who  will  vouch  for  me,  while  as  yet  I 
am  not  aware  of  your  name  or  place  of  residence,  so  I 
do  not  see  that  I  can  be  blamed  for  following  you. ' '  This 
remark  seemed  to  change  her  attitude  and  she  begged 
my  pardon,  saying  she  never  gave  her  name  while  trav- 
eling. We  soon  reached  Boston  and  I  made  the  remark 
that  I  thought  this  would  end  our  traveling  together. 
She  answered  that  she  would  not  be  surprised  now  to 
find  me  on  the  next  car  she  entered,  but  I  assured  her 
that  I  was  going  west,  while  I  did  not  know  where  she 
was  going.  We  parted  at  the  station,  each  thinking  that 
would  certainly  be  the  last  we  should  see  of  each  other. 
After  remaining  in  Boston  some  ten  days,  I  was  per- 
suaded to  go  to  Nova  Scotia  to  examine  a  mine  for  some 
Boston  men.  When  the  time  arrived  to  start  the  friend 
for  whom  I  was  going  said  he  had  a  friend  who  was 
going  to  Halifax  arid  that  he  would  like  to  have  her 
accompany  me.  She  was  stopping  at  his  house  and  he 
was  to  bring  her  down  to  the  train.  While  waiting  at 


110  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

the  station  I  was  thinking  that  I  should  have  a  different 
traveling  companion  from  the  mysterious  lady,  when  to 
my  breath-stopping  surprise,  who  should  I  see  my  friend 
assist  from  the  carriage  but  the  same  lady  who  had  been 
my  traveling  companion  for  the  last  three  thousand  miles. 
I  began  to  laugh,  but  she  fairly  turned  pale  when  she 
saw  me.  My  friend  introduced  her  as  Mrs.  Young,  and 
when  the  usual  formalities  had  been  gone  through,  I 
made  the  remark  that  although  I  had  been  traveling 
with  Mrs.  Young  on  every  train  since  leaving  San  Fran- 
cisco, I  had  not  known  the  lady's  name.  Mrs.  Young 
said  fate  surely  had  something  to  do  with  these  unex- 
plainable  happenings. 

After  leaving  our  friend  and  taking  the  train,  Mrs. 
Young  had  many  apologies  to  make  for  her  actions. 
She  thought  she  was  being  followed  and  that  I  had 
assumed  the  disguise  of  a  mining  man  to  either  rob 
her  or  lay  some  plot.  That  was  the  first  time  I  was  ever 
taken  for  a  confidence  man.  On  arriving  at  Halifax  I 
was  invited  to  her  house,  where  I  was  treated  to  a  fine 
dinner. 

A    TRIP    TO    NOME. 

Among  the  many  stampedes  which  have  sent  the 
avaricious  gold  seekers  to  their  long  homes,  there  has 
probably  never  been  one  that  has  involved  greater  outlay 
than  the  Nome  Stampede  of  June,  1900.  But  this  was 
not  without  apparent  proof  of  the  existence  of  wonderful 
deposits  of  gold  in  that  far  northern  country,  for  during 
the  latter  part  of  1899  there  had  been  a  large  amount  of 
u-old  taken  from  the  beach  and  some  of  the  creeks,  by 
the  most  primitive  methods  and  with  the  crudest  appli- 


A  Trip  to  Nome.  Ill 

ances,  and  on  the  return  of  the  miners  with  their  dust 
and  their  glowing  descriptions  of  the  country  and  of  the 
character  of  the  ground  which  contained  the  precious 
metals,  great  interest  was  aroused  in  the  mining  world, 
and  capital  was  not  slow  in  enlisting  in  any  seemingly 
good  device  for  extracting  the  gold  from  the  beach  and 
creeks. 

And  here  I  once  more  sought  out  one  of  the  rainbow 
chasers  with  a  view  of  getting  a  full  statement  of  how 
the  land  lay.  I  found  my  man,  and  after  a  number  of 
interviews  formulated  a  plan  by  which  I  was  to  beat  the 
game  and  get  rich  in  a  few  months.  I  laid  my  scheme 
before  a  few  of  my  most  intimate  friends  and  found  no 
trouble  in  launching  the  enterprise.  I  designed  a  dredge 
which  would  stand  on  rollers  in  the  water  from  four  to 
eight  feet  deep,  and  with  a  swinging  bucket  ladder, 
would  dig  the  sands  up  and  pass  them  over  a  gold-saving 
device,  returning  them  back  into  the  bay  after  the  gold 
had  been  extracted.  From  the  reports  of  people  who 
had  been  working  the  beach,  telling  of  the  amount  of 
gold  they  had  produced,  I  felt  that  after  ninety  days' 
run  with  the  tripod  dredge,  I  would  never  see  another 
poor  day,  and  my  partner  was  even  more  sanguine  than  I. 
His  imagination  of  his  future  wealth  was  so  vivid  that 
he  promised  a  friend  a  gold  bath  tub  from  his  share. 
However,  I  did  not  see  where  we  could  lose,  for  we  went 
fully  prepared  for  all  emergencies,  and  when  the  time 
arrived  for  our  departure,  our  stock  became  very  valu- 
able; but  there  was  none  for  sale. 

We  completed  our  machine  and  gave  it  a  test  both  as 
to  its  power  to  move  and  dig,  which  was  very  satisi'M;-- 
tory.  We  built  a  number  of  other  machines  to  work  in 


112  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

the  gravel  in  case  our  dredge  proved  a  failure  from  any 
unexpected  cause.  We  also  arranged  to  take  supplies 
and  men,  that  we  might  be  independent  from  the  rest 
of  the  camp. 

Now  came  the  long  trip  of  three  thousand  miles  to 
reach  the  promised  land.  Were  I  to  try  to  describe  this 
trip  in  detail  it  would  take  another  volume  larger  than 
this  to  contain  the  many  interesting  features,  so  I  will 
only  relate  a  few  of  the  most  important  ones. 

The  first  incident  of  interest  after  leaving  the  Sound 
was  on  reaching  Dutch  Harbor,  where  we  stopped  to 
bury  a  man  who  had  died  on  board.  It  having  been  ascer- 
tained on  looking  over  his  effects  that  he  was  a  Free 
Mason,  the  Masons  took  charge  of  the  body  and  buried 
him  with  the  ceremonies  of  the  order.  During  the  roll 
call  the  name  of  F.  Lamb  was  called,  giving  residence 
and  number  of  lodge,  and  I  recognized  it  as  a  cousin  of 
mine  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  thirty  years.  We  soon 
grasped  hands  and  discussed  other  queer  coincidences  of 
our  strange  meeting. 

After  leaving  Dutch  Harbor,  we  pushed  up  on  through 
Behring  Sea  for  some  six  hundred  miles,  where  we  began 
to  meet  the  flow  of  ice  from  the  Yukon  River,  and  in 
another  six  hours  our  good  ship  "Senator"  was  going 
under  a  slow  bell,  dodging  the  heavy  ice  floes.  During 
this  time  we  met  many  vessels,  both  steam  and  sail,  each 
looking  for  an  opening  to  push  their  way  north,  but 
thicker  and  thicker  became  the  ice,  until  the  opening 
through  which  we  had  come  closed  up  altogether.  Here, 
within  a  few  miles  of  each  other,  lay  fourteen  vessels, 
all  bound  for  the  gold  fields  of  Nome. 

Our  vessel  laid  up  along  the  ice  floe,  and  many  of  the 


A  Trip  to  Nome.  113 

passengers  went  on  the  ice  and  had  their  pictures  taken 
by  the  camera  fiends. 

We  had  then  been  some  fourteen  days  from  Seattle, 
and  excitement  ran  high  among  the  passengers  when  we 
found  we  were  all  drifting  at  the  rate  of  three  and  a 
quarter  miles  an  hour  to  .the  northeast,  and  there  were 
fears  that  this  great  ice  floe  would  reach  the  shore  and 
the  back  ice  would  crush  our  ship  as  if  it  were  an  egg 
shell.  I  talked  many  times  with  our  commander,  Captain 
Patterson,  with  whom  I  had  made  many  trips  to  South- 
eastern Alaska,  and  whom  I  knew  to  be  a  most  excellent 
commander,  and  could  see  that  he  was  very  much  worried, 
as  he  realized  his  utter  helplessness  in  his  present  con- 
dition. Some  of  the  passengers  walked  the  deck  both 
night  and  day,  trying  to  find  some  solution  of  the  situa- 
tion. Others  began  to  drown  their  fears  in  drink,  while 
others  climbed  to  the  mast-head,  looking  for  an  opening 
through  which  we  might  expect  escape.  During  this  time 
a  sailing  vessel  named  the  "Sutton"  struck  an  ice  floe 
and  sank  to  her  deck,  but  being  loaded  with  lumber  she 
did  not  go  to  the  bottom.  This  added  more  fear  to  the 
nervous  passengers  on  our  ship.  During  the  night  the  ice 
began  to  shift,  showing  it  was  meeting  with  resistance; 
our  captain  tried  pushing  his  way  through  the  small 
openings  to  the  eastward,  and  during  the  next  twenty- 
four  hours  we  probably  made  two  miles.  On  the  follow- 
ing morning  we  tried  bucking  the  smaller  icebergs,  but 
soon  found  we  were  springing  the  ship's  plates,  causing 
her  to  commence  leaking.  We  once  more  stopped  the 
engines  and  waited  developments  until  another  opening 
appeared,  and  gently  pushing  the  ice  apart  we  were 
soon  able  to  increase  our  speed,  until  we  finally  reached 


114  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

open  water,  having  spent  five  days  since  leaving  Dutch 
Harbor. 

During  this  time  our  coal  supply  had  become  reduced, 
and  as  the  captain  thought  it  unsafe  to  try  to  reach 
Nome  without  a  larger  supply,  we  turned  back  to  Dutch 
Harbor,  which  port  we  reached  after  losing  some  seven 
days.  Here  we  met  a  large  number  of  boats  bound  for 
Nome. 

After  getting  our  coal  bunkers  filled  we  again  started 
for  the  gold  fields.  We  finally  reached  the  ice  floe,  but 
were  able  to  crowd  our  way  through  with  the  help  of  the 
revenue  cutter  "Bear."  After  getting  through  the  ice 
floe  we  lost  no  time  in  reaching  Nome,  where  we  found 
a  number  of  boats  wrhich  had  succeeded  in  getting 
through  the  ice  before  us. 

On  our  arrival  we  found  a  great  many  tents  pitched 
along  the  beach  for  many  miles,  indicating  that  mining 
had  commenced  in  earnest.  We  got  ashore  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  commenced  planning  for  future  operations. 

It  is  well  to  say  that  the  richness  of  the  camp  would 
not  justify  the  purchase  of  any  gold  bath  tub  by  my 
enthusiastic  partner. 

During  the  next  three  months  I  witnessed  many  very 
exciting  incidents,  which  will  long  be  remembered  by 
myself  and  others. 

The  water  along  the  beach  at  Nome  is  quite  shallow 
for  a  mile  and  a  half  out  from  shore,  and  during  a  heavy 
gale  from  the  southwest  the  waves  sweep  up  the  coast 
with  such  fury  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  a  boat 
to  lay  at  anchor,  and  during  the  heaviest  gales  all  vessels 
raise  anchor  and  put  out  to  sea,  to  avoid  being  driven 
ashore. 


Meeting  on  the  Trail.  115 

Not  long  after  my  arrival  in  Nome  there  came  a  heavy 
west  wind  while  there  were  seventy-six  vessels  laying  at 
anchor,  being  unloaded  by  lighters.  The  wind  soon 
reached  a  hurricane  speed,  and  most  of  the  vessels  that 
had  power  went  to  sea  to  avoid  being  driven  ashore,  but 
there  were  a  number  of  sailing  vessels  which  dragged 
their  anchors  and  came  ashore,  and  one  by  one  those 
noble  crafts  which  had  sailed  the  ocean  and  reached  their 
destination,  were  doomed  to  destruction  on  the  beach. 
The  great  ship  "Skookum,"  of  three  thousand  tons  bur- 
den, after  some  twelve  hours  pulling  at  her  anchors, 
parted  her  chains,  came  in  with  a  rush  and  was  landed 
high  on  the  beach. 

One  of  the  strangest  freaks  of  the  waves  was  the 
sinking  of  a  large  stern- wheeler  about  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  from  shore  by  the  seas  breaking  over  her.  During 
the  next  ten  hours  following  the  sinking  she  was  shoved 
along  on  the  bottom  until  she  reached  the  shore  and  was 
pushed  high  and  dry  on  the  beach. 

During  this  gale  there  was  probably  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  worth  of  property  destroyed,  and  many 
a  poor  miner  lost  his  all  and  was  left  stranded  on  the 
beach.  

MEETING    ON    THE    TRAIL. 

Some  years  ago  I  was  traveling  through  the  mining 
country  known  as  "Trail"  and  "Boundary  Creek"  in 
British  Columbia. 

It  was  the  custom  in  those  days  to  travel  by  saddle 
horse  and  pack  animal,  as  there  were  no  wagon  roads 
whereby  anyone  could  reach  the  numerous  prospects 
which  the  prospectors  had  been  trying  to  develop  in 


116  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

those  high  mountain  ranges.  When  once  in  the  mining 
camps  one  would  frequently  hear  of  new  discoveries 
farther  up  the  mountains  and  over  the  other  side  of 
the  ranges. 

The  tales  that  were  told  were  sufficient  to  turn  one's 
head,  and  it  was  delightful  to  think  that  one  could  kiss 
goodbye  to  poverty,  live  in  the  lap  of  luxury  and  com- 
miserate those  who  would  not  take  the  risk  of  climbing 
the  mountainous  peaks  to  barter  for  one  of  those  bonanzas 
which  could  be  obtained  by  paying  a  prospector  a  small 
sum  for  his  claim— enough  money  to  settle  his  little  bills 
and  fit  him  out  for  another  trip. 

However,  I  was  chasing  one  of  those  rainbows,  ex- 
pecting to  find  the  bag  of  gold  where  some  prospector 
said  it  was,  and  as  usual  it  was  just  over  the  other  side 
of  the  highest  range  in  all  that  country.  So  I  mounted 
my  horse  and  struck  the  trail  one  morning,  knowing  it 
would  take  me  some  seven  or  eight  hours  to  make  the  trip, 
where  I  expected  to  see  the  beginning  of  another  imagined 
fortune.  After  climbing  the  steep  mountain  through  a 
dense  forest,  I  finally  reached  the  summit,  and  here  sud- 
denly met  an  old  acquaintance— Mr.  Corbin  of  Spokane. 
He  and  his  engineer  had  been  climbing  the  opposite  side 
to  meet' me,  not  by  appointment,  but  by  chance,  on  that 
high  range  of  mountains  in  a  dense  forest.  Had  we 
planned  this  meeting  and  been  timing  ourselves  with  the 
best  chronometers  we  could  not  have  done  better. 

However,  I  soon  ran  down  my  prospect  and  joined 
him  on  my  return  to  camp,  where  we  spent  some  days 
reconnoitering  over  the  mountains. 

Since  that  time,  some  of  the  prospects  that  had  but 
a  few  feet  of  work  done  on  them  have  turned  out  to  be 


My  English  Friend.  117 

fine  paying  properties,  and  still  I  am  hunting  for  a  pros- 
pect that  is  what  the  miner  thinks  it  is. 


MY   ENGLISH    FRIEND. 

What  a  little  world  we  live  in,  after  all!  When  as 
children  we  look  at  the  large  map  on  the  wall  of  the 
school  room  or  spell  out  carefully  w-o-r-l-d,  it  is  indeed 
to  our  youthful  imagination  a  vast  and  terrible  place. 
But  when  in  after  years  we  leave  our  little  back  yards 
and  go  abroad  in  the  land,  meeting  the  same  people, 
hearing  the  same  language,  witnessing  the  same  tragedies 
and  comedies,  then  does  this  vast  world  grpw  small 
indeed. 

I  was  traveling  through  Ireland  with  an  American 
friend.  We  were  seated  one  day  in  a  compartment  car, 
and  during  our  conversation  talked  of  America.  An 
elderly  Englishman  sat  opposite  us  and  seemed  much 
interested  in  the  conversation.  Finally  he  broke  in  by 
asking  if  I  had  been  in  Ameica,  and  in  reply  I  informed 
him  that  I  was  an  American. 

"Is  that  so!"  said  he.  "Were  you  ever  in  Colorado?" 

"Yes,'"  said  I. 

"Is  that  possible,"  he  said,  with  considerable  em- 
phasis, "and  were  you  ever  in  Georgetown,  Colorado?" 

On  my  telling  him  that  I  had  been  there,  he  appeared 
much  excited  and  exclaimed,  "Is  it  possible!  Did  you 
know  a  man-  by  the  name  of  Prauhl  ? ' ' 

I  told  him  that  I  had  employed  such  a  man  and  had 
discharged  him  for  stealing.  "That  he  will,  that  he 
will,"  he  exclaimed. 

I  then  learned  that  he  was  Prauhl's  father-in-law  and 
that  he  was  then  supporting  the  fellow's  wife  and 


118  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

children.  This  he  related  without  hesitation,  and  in  a 
few  words  gave  me  the  man's  history,  which  was  nothing 
to  be  proud  of.  I  'told  him  what  I  knew  of  the  man, 
and  he  unhesitatingly  called  him  a  vagabond. 

Upon  arriving  in  Limerick  my  English  friend  left  us. 
After  our  stay  in  Ireland  we  went  on  to  London,  in  which 
place  we  generally  took  our  lunches  in  a  restaurant 
where  the  cooking  was  done  on  the  American  plan. 

On  going  to  the  counter  one  day  to  pay  my  check, 
whom  did  I  see  but  my  English  friend.  On  seeing  me  he 
said,  "Oh,  Mr.  Hammond,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  I  wish 
to  make  you  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Prauhl."  She  was 
cashier  of  the  place  where  I  had  been  taking  my  lunches. 

This  introduction  seemed  to  completely  unnerve  the 
poor  woman,  for  she  turned  pale  and  seemed  very  much 
embarrassed.  However,  I  told  her  all  I  knew  of  her 
husband  and  of  his  conduct  in  America,  so  far  as  my 
acquaintance  went.  There  was  no  question  about  his 
being  the  run-away  husband,  as  my  description  of  him 
was  perfect.  The  old  gentleman,  who  was  working  a 
small  farm,  cordially  invited  me  to  go  out  and  spend 
Sunday  with  him  at  his  little  farm  some  twenty  miles 
from  London,  which  I  did,  and  on  leaving  England  he 
gave  me  a  handsome  bunch  of  hot  house  grapes  that 
would  make  any  American  smile  like  a  darkey  boy  over 
a  watermelon. 

MINING    DEFINITIONS. 

A  Prospector:  A  man  who  has  a  hole  in  the  ground 
and  is  the  biggest  liar  in  town. 

A  Proposition  Man:  One  who  wears  laced  boots  and 
corduroy  clothes,  and  never  pays  his  board  bill. 


Mining  Definitions.  119 

A  Mining  Expert :  A  man  who  can  talk  about  forma- 
tions, ramifications,  stratifications,  dykes,  zones,  dips, 
spurs,  angles,  teligtites,  oozites,  seddemites  and  all  other 
ites  and  tites;  can  see  a  mile  into  mother  earth  and 
invariably  condemns  the  country. 

An  Expert  Miner :  A  man  who  loafs  around  town 
looking  for  a  job  as  superintendent  of  a  property,  but 
would  be  a  foreman  if  he  can't  be  superintendent;  one 
who  worked  on  the  Comstock  in  '70,  and  has  been  idle 
ever  since. 

A  '49er:  A  man  who  came  to  the  Coast  in  the  "fall 
of  '49  or  spring  of  '50,"  and  knows  where  there  are  dig- 
gings that  will  pay  $1.50  to  the  pan,  and  is  going  back 
there  just  as  soon  as  spring  comes. 

A  Mining  Reporter:  A  man  who  wants  you  to  sub- 
scribe for  his  paper,  wants  to  write  up  your  property, 
and  wants  you  to  take  him  out  in  the  best  buggy  in 
town,  smokes  your  best  cigars  and  borrows  $5.00. 

A  Mine  Promoter :  A  man  who  has  unlimited  capital 
behind  him,  but  not  any  in  front  of  him;  his  watch  is 
in  soak. 

A  Tenderfoot:  A  "Willie  Boy"  just  out  from  the 
East.  Carries  a  small  arsenal  with  him,  goes  out  pros- 
pecting with  a  shotgun  and  a  fishing  rod,  buys  a  salted 
claim  and  gets  money  from  mother  to  come  home  in 
the  fall. 

An  Amalgamator:  A  man  who  wears  long  finger 
nails,  draws  $5.00  a  shift  and  deposits  $10.00  in  the  bank 
every  day,  if  the  ore  is  low  grade,  and  more  in  propor- 
tion on  high  grade  ore. 

"A  Local  Mill  Man  of  Note":  One  who  has  been 
on  the  eve  of  starting  for  South  Africa  or  some  other 


120  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

far-off  region  for  seven  years,  to  take  charge  of  the  con- 
struction of  a  1000-stamp  mill  for  a  London  syndicate; 
a  man  who  has  been  positively  known  to  have  constructed 
a  sawmill. 

An  Assayer :  A  man  who  charges  you  $1.50  for  throw- 
ing your  samples  out  of  the  back  door  and  writing  you 
a  certificate. 

A  Mining  Engineer:  One  who  makes  funny  figures 
on  blazed  stumps  and  charges  a  big  price. 


A   FREE    BATH. 

"When  you  have  friends,  use  them,"  seemed  to  have 
been  my  motto  on  one  of  my  return  trips  from  Alaska. 
After  due  reflection,  I  blush  to  look  back  and  think  of 
the  amount  of  "gall"  I  must  have  gathered  while  up 
North,  and  still  have  sufficient  nerve  left  on  my  return 
to  take  possession  of  a  friend's  house  in  his  absence, 
scare  the  domestic  into  allowing  me  the  run  of  the  house, 
order  a  bath  and  a  room  put  in  order,  so  that  I  could 
sleep  off  any  surplus  of  nerve  in  case  the  proprietor  put 
in  an  appearance  before  morning. 

While  on  my  first  trip  to  Alaska,  we  made  a  short 
stop  at  Nanaimo,  where  the  old  ship  Aucon  was  to  take 
on  a  supply  of  coal  to  run  her  some  two  thousand  miles. 
During  this  time,  while  strolling  over  Vancouver  Island 
in  search  of  pinks  and  roses,  I  met  a  gentleman  and 
three  ladies.  This  gentleman  seemed  to  be  the  center  of 
attraction  for  the  three  ladies,  and  I  looked  on  in  envy 
to  see  any  one  man  appropriating  so  many  of  the  fair 
sex  while  others,  less  fortunate,  went  their  way  alone. 
However,  by  edging  around  I  finally  entered  into  a  con- 


A  Free  Bath.  121 

versation  with  them.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  most 
happy  friendship  which  has  lasted  seventeen  years. 

My  envied  friend  gave  his  name  as  M.  R.  Maddocks. 
of  Seattle,  and  introduced  the  ladies  as  Mrs.  John  Wen- 
dell of  Detroit,  Michigan ;  Mrs.  Dr.  Bagley  of  Seattle,  and 
Mrs.  Bueget  of  Cleveland,  Ohio,  and  I  in  turn  told  them 
that  I  was  I.  B.  Hammond,  of  Chicago.  We  spent  a  very 
pleasant  time  talking,  walking  and  gathering  plants  and 
flowers.  Later  we  joined  a  party  of  excursionists  and 
went  out  to  a  small  island,  where  we  celebrated  the 
Fourth  of  July  on  British  soil. 

During  the  next  six  days  we  compared  notes  and 
found  that  our  likes  and  dislikes  were  very  similar,  and 
before  parting  I  pledged  myself  to  call  on  Mr.  Maddocks 
on  my  return  to  Seattle,  which  I  did,  and  there  met  Mrs. 
Maddocks,  who  was  not  even  jealous  of  her  husband 
having  had  the  guardianship  of  so  many  ladies.  In  fact, 
she  had  been  the  prime  mover  in  starting  the  excursion 
on  that  beautiful  trip  for  the  enjoyment  of  their  friends, 
an  experience  of  which  they  all  can  be  proud. 

On  returning  to  Seattle  from  one  of  my  Alaska  trips, 
I  found  my  friends  absent,  and  in  place  of  the  old  domes- 
tic who  had  been  with  the  family  since  my  first  acquain- 
tance, I  found  a  sprinkle  of  Sweden  in  possession.  That 
upset  my  happiness,  especially  as  I  had  hired  a  carriage 
to  bring  myself  and  luggage  up  the  hill  and  had  already 
discharged  the  driver.  Seeing  a  light  in  the  house,  I 
entered  and  began  to  feel  really  at  home.  You  can 
imagine  my  surprise  when  I  was  told  by  the  new  servant, 
"Veil,  Ise  tank  um  come  some  time  dis  night."  I  said, 
"I  just  tank  I  stay  right  here,"  set  down  my  grip  and 
waited  developments. 


122  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

After  reading  the  paper,  not  being  able  to  talk  Swede, 
I  said,  "Say,  tank  I  go  bed,"  and  started  for  my  cus- 
tomary room.  In  passing  the  old  familiar  bath  tub  I 
concluded  to  use  it  as  of  old,  and  after  drawing  hot 
water  sufficient  to  have  scalded  a  porker,  I  took  my  bath 
and  went  to  my  room  and  was  about  to  pass  into  the 
land  of  dreams,  when  I  heard  loud  talking.  I  concluded 
to  lie  still,  as  I  was  in  as  little  danger  in  bed  as  behind 
the  door,  and  await  developments.  I  really  began  to 
feel  as  if  I  had  put  myself  in  a  position  to  be  shot  for  a 
burglar  or  run  in  by  the  police.  Footsteps  on  successive 
flights  of  stairs  warned  me  that  investigators  were  com- 
ing; the  door  of  my  much  coveted  room  flew  open  and 
in  came  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maddocks.  There  was  no  shot 
fired,  but  I  grasped  their  hands,  snatched  a  kiss  from 
the  cheek  of  Mrs.  M.  and  the  fight  was  over. 


THE    GO-DEVIL. 

Of  the  toil  and  tribulations  involved  in  opening  a 
new  country,  particularly  a  mining  district,  nothing  is 
more  disheartening,  expensive  and  fruitful  of  awfully 
hard  language  than  the  getting  of  machinery  to  the 
mines.  It  takes  much  money  to  build  roads  into  the 
mountains,  over  gulches,  up  the  canyons  and  through 
the  woods.  Even  trails  for  pack  animals  are  expensive. 
Fallen  timber,  boulders,  chuck  holes,  roots,  sidling  slopes, 
land-slides,  snow-slides,  wash-outs  and  wash-ins  are  the 
characteristics  of  all  new  roads  into  the  mines. 

To  get  heavy  machinery  into  a  locality  without  build- 
ing a  wagon  road,  is  the  office  and  function  of  the 
Go-Devil. 


The  Go-Devil.  123 

It  hasn't  any  wheels  to  "dish"  the  wrong  way  or 
slide  off  the  grade,  no  axles  to  break.  It  doesn't  drop 
into  a  chuck  hole,  dump  its  load  down  the  hill  and  fetch 
up  on  top  in  the  bottom  of  the  canyon.  It  crawls  along 
on  the  ground  with  its  load  on  its  back,  creeps  over 
rocks,  roots,  ruts  and  things,  and  does  great  work  in 
a  lowly  modest  way.  It  needs  power,  of  course,  but  this 
can  be  supplied  by  animals,  traction  or  stationary  engines, 
pulley  and  tackle,  capstan— anything  that  will  persist- 
ently pull.  It  is  a  great  saver  of  money— and  profanity. 
It. lays  down  and  takes  up  its  own  road-bed  as  it  goes. 
It  can  be  made  of  any  size. 

Two  heavy  timbers — say  8  feet  long  by  18  inches 
wide  and  4  inches  thick— rounded  at  the  ends  and  shod 
at  the  bottom  edges  with  heavy  steel  plates,  are  stoutly 
framed  together,  parallel,  forming  a  sort  of  stout  sled. 
A  strong  endless  chain  encircles  each  of  these  timbers 
lengthwise.  The  inside  of  the  chains  have  forgings  shaped 
like  sections  of  channel  iron,  and  the  edges  of  the  tim- 
bers (or  runners)  rest  between  these  flanges  as  guides, 
holding  the  chain  in  place.  To  these  several  forgings 
heavy  cast  iron  lugs  are  bolted,  forming  the  outside  of 
the  chain  to  rest  on  the  ground,  like  feet.  Now,  with 
these  chains  in  place,  daub  some  axle  grease  on  the  steel 
bottoms  of  the  two  side  timbers  (runners),  put  the 
machine  on  the  ground,  your  load  on  the  frame  between 
the  runners,  hitch  a  horse  to  one  end  and  start  him. 

The  lugs,  resting  on  the  ground,  like  feet,  adhere 
thereto,  but  the  two  side  timbers  (runners)  slip  contin- 
uously on  the  greased  chains,  which  roll  up  from  behind 
and  roll  down  over  the  front  of  the  runners,  thus  making 


Resources  in  a  Mining  Camp.  125 

a  continuous  roadway  for  itself.  All  you  need  is  power 
in  front  and  a  steering  pole  behind  to  take  your  load 
over  any  kind  of  ground  not  wholly  impassable.  It 
won't  slide  sideways  or  drop  into  gutters  Or  ordinary 
quagmires.  It  will  climb  small  logs,  stones  and  be 
faithful.  Being  down  on  the  ground  it  is  easy  to  place 
loads  on  it  or  take  loads  off.  It  will  go  over  any  trail 
or  road  that  a  horse  can  work  on.  The  illustration  is 
from  a  photograph  of  a  Go-Devil  loaded  with  a  cast  iron 
mortar  weighing  6,000  pounds,  in  actual  operation. 
The  Go-Devil  is  an  invention  of  my  own. 


RESOURCES    IN   A   MINING    CAMP. 

It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  in  a  mining  camp  to 
encounter  heavy  losses  by  breakage,  and  heavy  wear 
upon  the  many  pieces  of  machinery  that  are  used  in  the 
reduction  of  ores  and  the  development  of  mining  property. 
I  will  relate  a  few  of  the  many  difficulties  I  have  helped  to 
overcome;  damages  which,  at  the  time,  looked  as  if 
nothing  but  a  well-equipped  machine  shop  and  foundry 
could  repair.  But  the  old  saying  is  "Necessity  is  the 
mother  of  invention,"  and  I  will  admit  that  necessity 
brings  out  resources  which  would  in  ordinary  cases  never 
be  heard  from.  And  again,  in  the  early  days  of  milling, 
the  machinery  was  much  more  of  an  experimental  kind 
than  at  present.  Naturally,  by  long  years  of  experience 
with  many  of  the  brighter  men  of  the  country,  the  mills 
are  at  present  less  liable  to  derangement. 

We  were  running  a  25-stamp  mill,  and,  according  to  the 
old  practice,  the  entire  number  of  stamps  were  operated  by 
the  cams  being  placed  on  one  shaft,  and  that  was  driven 


126  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

from  one  end.  In  due  time  this  poor  design  resulted  in 
the  breaking  of  the  cam  shaft  and  everything  came  to  a 
sudden  stop.  This,  to  all  appearances,  meant  a  shut- 
down of  thirty  to  forty  days,  as  every  piece  of  machinery 
had  to  be  drawn  275  miles  by  wagon,  over  the  bad  lands 
and  mountain  roads.  This,  one  might  say,  would  bring 
about  the  winter  of  our  discontent,  and  at  the  same  time 
bring  out  any  ingenuity  that  might  be  in  the  many  men 
affected  by  the  shut-down. 

I  presented  to  our  blacksmith  a  plan  to  weld  this 
shaft,  which  was  5^/2  inches  in  diameter  and  22  feet  long. 
This  huge  piece  of  iron  could  not  be  handled  without 
blocks  and  tackle,  and  to  weld  it  in  a  mining  camp 
without  the  use  of  a  steam  hammer  and  big  forges, 
looked  like  a  hopeless  undertaking.  After  talking  with 
our  smith,  we  formulated  a  plan  and  soon  started  to  put 
it  in  operation.  We  commenced  by  setting  some  men  to 
removing  the  cams  from  the  shaft,  while  others  built  a 
temporary  furnace  to  hold  sufficient  charcoal  to  give  the 
required  heat.  We  then  secured  four  large  bellows  to 
create  the  necessary  blast.  This  being  done,  we  took  a 
stamp  stem,  with  boss  head  and  shoe,  and  arranged  a 
battering  ram  to  drive  the  two  pieces  of  shaft  together 
when  we  got  the  required  heat.  We  then  arranged  some 
Vs  which  would  hold  the  shaft  accurately  in  line  while 
being  heated.  Then  we  set  our  anvil  so  it  would  receive 
the  shaft  as  it  was  slid  through  the  V,  and  so  that  the 
joined  pieces,  after  being  driven  together  by  the  batter- 
ing ram,  would  rest  directly  upon  the  anvil,  when  four 
hammermen  with  heavy  sledges  could  play  their  blows 
in  the  soft  welding  head  of  the  shaft.  We  then  proceeded 


Boring  an  Engine  Cylinder.  127 

to  train  eight  of  our  best  hammermen  from  the  mine  to 
act  as  a  steam  hammer,  using  reliefs  of  four  at  a  time. 
Preparations  being  completed  we  set  to  work,  accomp- 
lished the  job  without  a  hitch,  and  started  the  mill  after 
a  delay  of  three  and  one-half  days.  The  mill  ran  for 
years  without  further  demands  on  ''Rules  of  Thumb." 


BORING   AN   ENGINE    CYLINDER. 

One  of  my  neighbors  in  Dakota,  a  mill  owner,  came 
to  me,  stating  that  the  cylinder  of  his  engine  was  leaking 
steam,  and  he  expected  to  have  to  shut  down  and  send 
to  Chicago,  as  there  was  no  lathe  in  the  country  at  that  time. 

After  examining  his  engine  we  decided  it  could  be 
repaired  where  it  set,  and  that  a  set  of  rings  could  be  sent 
by  express  and  stage  from  Chicago,  by  wiring  the  dimen- 
sions. There  was  no  boring  bar  in  the  country,  and  we 
must  accomplish  the  job  with  what  was  at  hand. 

We  took  a  stamp  stem  and  placed  a  tappet  at  each 
end  of  the  cylinder,  blocking  them  up  in  line  and  fasten- 
ing them  securely.  We  then  placed  a  tappet  in  the 
cylinder  and  used  one  key  hole  for  the  cutting  tool  and 
the  other  for  holding  the  tappet  securely  to  the  stem  by 
driving  the  tappet  key  tight  on  the  gib.  We  forged  the 
cutting  tool  out  of  a  pick  point.  We  then  placed  a  large 
pulley  at  the  outer  end  of  the  cylinder,  on  the  stem,  made 
a  windlass  with  two  cranks,  and  fitted  a  belt  around  the 
windlass  and  the  pulley.  We  then  drilled  a  hole  in  the 
end  of  the  stem,  cut  a  long  thread  on  %  rod,  and  screwed 
the  rod  in  the  end  of  the  stem,  placing  a  nut  on  this  rod, 
which  we  could  turn  to  suit  the  cut  we  wished  to  take 
and  force  the  stem  forward  and  back  as  we  desired. 


128  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

It  took  three  cuts  through  the  engine  cylinder,  which 
was  14  inches  by  28  inches,  making  it  as  smooth  as  when 
new.  On  the  arrival  of  the  rings  they  were  inserted, 
causing  a  delay  of  two  and  one-half  days  of  a  shut  down 
after  the  rings  arrived. 


PACKING   MACHINERY. 

This  cut  represents  one  of  the  many  ways  in  which, 
machinery  is  packed  into  the  mountains,  where  the  build- 
ing of  wagon  roads  is  too  expensive  until  the  mines  are 
more  fully  developed.  In  order  to  develop  the  mines 
there  must  be  machinery  brought  in  to  test  these  pros- 
pects, and  to  do  this  the  trail  is  the  only  road,  and  in 
most  cases  the  prospector  can  not  afford  to  make  much' 
of  a  trail  through  heavy  growth  of  timber  up  and  down 
steep  mountains.  And  again,  to  reduce  the  size  of  the 
necessary  machinery,  so  that  a  single  pack  animal  can 
carry  the  heavy  pieces,  is  another  expense  to  be  avoided, 
and  the  poor  pack  mule  is  the  one  that  the  burden  falls 
upon  to  carry  the  overload,  the  expense  of  which  is  beim' 
shunned  by  both  mine  owner  and  machinery  builder. 
When  the  builder  overtaxes  the  capacity  of  the  mule  to 
such  an  extent  that  the  poor  animal  lays  down  his  burden 
in  despair,  his  mate  is  brought  in  to  share '  his  load, 
or  carry  one  end  of  two  bars  which  are  hung  in  a  yoke 
that  is  fastened  to  the  pack  saddle  in  the  middle  and 
extends  down  on  each  side  of  the  mule.  In  the  lower 
end  of  these  yokes  is  hung  a  pole  or  scantling  extending 
from  one  mule  to  the  other,  and  on  these  poles  is  placed 
the  heavy  weight  to  be  carried.  The  half  hoop  or  yoke 


130  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

that  extends  down  each  side  of  the  animal  is  allowed  to 
swing  backward  and  forward  and  is  sufficiently  wide  to 
allow  the  animal  to  turn. 

The  cut  represents  two  mules  carrying  a  pulley  seven 
feet  in  diameter  and  weighing  700  pounds,  which  could 
not  be  carried  on  one  animal. 


A    TRAILING   LETTER. 

The  following  lines  will  demonstrate  how  perfect  a 
system  of  postal  service  we  have  in  this  country  and 
Great  Britain. 

During  the  eighties,  while  traveling  through  Kansas, 
which  was  then  the  home  of  an  old  schoolmate  and  life- 
long friend,  I  wrote  him  to  once  more  renew  our  friendly 
relations,  as  it  had  been  many  years  since  we  had  seen 
each  other.  While  young  men  we  had  followed  the  con- 
struction of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  together  and  wit- 
nessed many  exciting  times,  but  as  my  friend  had  mar- 
ried and  gone  to  live  in  what  the  frontier  man  called 
" bleeding"  Kansas,  and  as  my  occupation  sent  me  in 
other  ways,  we  naturally  drifted  apart  and  apparently 
lost  interest  in  each  other,  only  to  be  renewed  when 
anything  transpired  that  brought  back  to  memory  the 
events  of  the  past.  When  passing  through  his  state  the 
temptation  to  once  more  renew  our  friendship  became 
too  strong,  and  I  wrote  him,  saying  I  would  be  in  Port- 
land at  about  a  stated  time. 

In  due  time  .1  arrived  in  Portland  and  from  there 
went  to  Alaska,  from  there  back  to  Portland,  then  to  San 
Francisco,  and  from  there  to  Chicago,  then  to  New  York, 
where  I  stayed  a  few  days,  going  from  there  to  London, 


A  Trailing  Letter.  131 

where  I  spent  some  time.  On  leaving  London  I  came 
back  to  New  York,  where  I  stayed  a  few  days,  then 
returned  to  San  Francisco,  from  which  place  I  went  to 
Alaska,  from  there  again  returning  to  Portland. 

It  will  be  well  to  state  that  on  leaving  the  hotels  I 
always  left  particular  orders  for  my  mail  to  follow  me, 
as  I  had  some  important  business  letters.  However,  on 
finally  returning  to  Portland  I  was  surprised  to  receive  a 
letter  from  my  old  friend,  schoolmate  and  frontier  partner. 
This  letter  had  followed  me  from  Portland  to  Alaska, 
San  Francisco,  Chicago,  New  York,  London,  back  to  New 
York,  then  to  'Frisco,  back  to  Portland,  again  to  Alaska, 
finally  overtaking  me  in  Portland,  Oregon,  after  having 
traveled  over  19,000  miles,  fully  demonstrating  the  won- 
derful postal  facilities  of  two  great  nations. 

It  was  a  double  pleasure  to  receive  such  a  letter  after 
the  wonderful  journey  it  had  made — yet  a  much  greater 
surprise  and  pleasure  was  near  at  hand. 

As  I  was  passing  along  First  street,  I  heard  my  school- 
boy nickname  called  out,  and  on  turning  about,  wonder- 
ing who  should  know  me  by  the  familiar  cognomen  of 
"Ike,"  who  should  I  see  but  the  writer  of  the  letter 
referred  to— my  old  schoolboy  friend,  H.  E.  Cowgill,  and 
his  brother  Albert,  across  the  street,  waiting  to  see  if  the 
old  time  salutation  was  answered.  A  moment  later  there 
was  a  sincere  greeting  and  hand-shaking  by  three  men 
who  had  known  each  other  as  boys,  but  had  not  met  for 
over  thirty  years. 

EARLY    DAYS    IN    THE    BLACK    HILLS. 

In  the  spring  of  1877,  I  got  the  gold  fever  from 
the  manv  fabulous  stories  which  came  from  the  Black 


132  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

Hills  in  Dakota,  of  the  wonderful  finds  that  were 
being  made.  During  the  previous  year  there  had  been 
many  reports  of  rich  gold  discoveries  on  the  Sioux  Res- 
ervation, which  was  well  guarded  by  both  Indians  and 
soldiers,  and  when  a  party  of  gold  hunters  or  prospectors 
would  break  through  the  lines  into  the  reservation  they 
were  either  attacked  by  the  Indians  or  pursued  by  the 
soldiers  and  brought  out  of  the  reservation. 

But  these  conditions  could  not  last  long.  When 
gold  is  once  known  to  exist  in  paying  quantities,  all  the 
Indians  in  North  America  would  not  stop  the  prospector 
from  exploring  the  supposed  gold  fields.  When  he  once 
establishes  the  fact  of  the  find,  then  comes  the  adjusting 
of  any  Indian  treaties  that  might  have  existed. 

The  opening  to  settlement  of  the  reservation  which 
followed  the  1876  prospecting,  was  done  contrary  to  law, 
but  it  resulted  in  one  of  the  greatest  gold  discoveries 
in  America.  It  has  yielded  many  millions  in  gold  and 
is  still  a  large  producer  of  the  yellow  metal. 

And  I,  like  many  thousands  of  young  men,  thought  I 
saw  where  I  could  increase  my  worldly  possessions  by 
roughing  it  for  a  few  years.  After  getting  all  the  infor- 
mation possible,  I  built  a  small  stamp  mill  and  with  some 
friends  set  forth  early  in  the  spring  of  1877,  over  the 
new  route,  by  way  of  Fort  Pierre  on  the  Missouri  River, 
and  the  Bad  Lands. 

The  boat  we  took  was  the  first  to  land  freight  for  the 
Fort  Pierre  route.  We  took  a  span  of  horses  and  a 
wagon  for  earning  our  own  baggage,  but  contracted 
with  the  Evans  Transportation  Company  to  haul  our 
stamp  mill  and  provisions.  We  took  about  a  dozen  pros- 
pectors with  us,  carrying  their  baggage  and  camp  outfits, 


Early  Days  in  the  Black  Hills.  133 

they  walking  in  company  with  us.  We  received  fifteen 
dollars  from  each  man  for  carrying  100  pounds  of  freight. 

Finally  reaching  the  coveted  land  of  gold,  we  pitched 
our  tent  and  commenced  to  reconnoiter  for  a  site  where 
we  could  erect  our  stamp  mill.  Not,  however,  without 
having  a  number  of  Indian  scares,  both  on  the  route  and 
after  we  reached  Deadwood. 

One  of  the  most  exciting  events  occurred  after  we 
had  pitched  camp  on  what  was  then  known  as  City 
Creek,  just  above  the  town  site  of  Deadwood.  While 
making  plans  for  future  moves,  and  waiting  for  our 
freight  to  arrive,  there  came  a  messenger  into  camp  with 
the  sad  news  that  two  men,  one  boy  and  a  woman  had 
been  killed  by  the  Indians  on  Spearfish  Creek,  some 
sixteen  miles  from  Deadwood. 

In  a  short  time  a  party  of  fourteen  men  were  mounted 
on  tired  horses,  making  their  way  through  the  mud 
toward  the  scene  of  the  massacre.  Night  soon  came  on, 
and  with  it  a  heavy  rain  which  drenched  every  man  to 
the  skin.  We  backed  up  against  some  friendly  'pine 
trees  for  bed  and  shelter,  and  waited  through  the  long 
night  for  break  of  day.  Morning  came  at  last  and  we 
mounted  our  hungry,  shivering  beasts  and  started  for 
the  scene  of  trouble.  At  10  o'clock  we  had  reached  the 
place  where  the  party  had  been  most  brutally  slain  by 
those  who  are  so  often  called  the  poor,  brave  redmen. 
This  subject,  however,  I  will  not  at  this  time  try  to 
discuss.  We  were  soon  able  to  find  the  tracks  of  the 
fleeing  redmen  and  pushed  on  in  pursuit,  feeling,  how- 
ever, for  many  reasons,  that  we  were  on  a  hopeless  chase. 
Our  horses  were  in  bad  shape  to  make  much  of  a  chase, 
or  to  flee  if  pursued  by  our  enemies;  all  of  which  was 


134  Reminiscences  of  Frontier  Life. 

thought  about  and  talked  over.  But  we  felt  it  our  duty 
not  to  return  without  making  a  good  effort  to  revenge 
the  death  of  the  poor  settlers  who  had  been  so  mercilessly 
killed  and  mutilated  by  the  savages.  We  finally  struck 
a  well  beaten  trail  the  fleeing  band  had  made  and  which 
we  could  follow  without  delay.  Following  this  trail  some 
eight  or  ten  miles  we  came  to  a  sudden  stop  at  the  top 
of  a  hill.  The  hair  on  every  man's  head  had  a  slight 
tendency  to  raise,  and  not  without  good  cause,  for  not 
more  than  three-fourths  of  a  mile  away,  on  the  banks  of 
a  stream,  there  was  a  large  Indian  camp  of  tepees.  With- 
out comment  as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done,  each  horse's 
head  was  turned  and  the  spurs  of  persuasian  were  lib- 
erally applied  to  their  flanks  and  sides,  to  quickly  cover 
the  distance  between  the  seemingly  quiet  Indian  camp, 
and  the  busy  town  of  Deadwood.  We  did  not  succeed 
in  capturing  the  murderers  of  the  settlers,  but  later  the 
soldiers  captured  Sitting  Bull,  and  took  his  band  of 
redmen  to  the  reservation.  This  was  about  the  last  of 
the  North  American  Indian  warfare.  With  the  civilizing 
or  colonizing  of  the  Indians  came  also  the  annihilation 
of  the  buffaloes,  which  supplied  the  Indians  with  food 
while  in  their  native  haunts.  By  the  slaughtering  of  the 
buffalo,  the  Indians  were  compelled  to  come  to  the  white 
man  for  domestic  herds. 

We  soon  found  that  all  the  rocks  in  the  Hills  did 
not  carry  gold.  We  also  found  there  were  plenty  of 
people  who  were  hunting  suckers,  or  in  other  words 
tenderfeet.  After  some  days  we  concluded  to  go  into  the 
saw  mill  business  instead  of  gold  mining,  and  soon 
put  our  engine  and  boiler  into  operation  with  a  party 
owning  a  saw  mill.  Meanwhile,  we  kept  up  the  still 
hunt  for  a  gold  mine,  which  is  yet  undiscovered. 


To 


HammonD 


3. 

The  Pioneer. 

Keep  ever  onward,  sturdy  pioneer! 

Build  new  outposts,  with  each  succeeding  year! 

Move  on  the  boundaries,  of  mighty  nations! 

Sow  the  seeds  of  future  civilizations, 

Along  the  setting  sun 's  effulgent  ray, 

As  westward,  ranks  of  progress  take  their  way. 

All  honor  to  you  who  first  blazed  the  trail, 

Through  forest,  mountain,  desert,  hill  and  vale;— 

Who,  dro'be  your  herds  across  the  grassy  plain; 

Founding  empires  and  planting  fields  of  grain; — 

Building  cities,  where  savage  wigwams  stood, 

As  monuments  to  lasting  fortitude; — 

Who,  harnessed  water,  lightning,  steam  and  air, 

And  turned  those  mighty  wheels  of  commerce  there; — 

Who,  laid  from  sea  to  sea,  those  rails  of  steel, 

And  ofer  it  sent  the  "iron  horse"  awheel; — 

Who,  stretched  electric  wires  around  the  world, 

And  on  strange  seas  those  daring  sails  unfurled; — 

Who,  founded  schools  where  once  roamed  lion  and  bear, 

And  builded  homes  for  the  brave  and  the  fair. 

Empire  builders,  your  work  is  nearly  done; — 

Pioneers  in  thought,  yours,  has  just  begun. 

Indentions  will  increase  human  powers. 

Future  arts  will  beautify  all  flowers. 

Future  muses  will  sing  us  sweeter  songs. 

Fair  justice  will  right  many  present  wrongs. 

But  if  you  would  broaden  the  manly  scope, 

Look  West,  for  there's  the  brightest  star  of  hope. 

— Edward  C.  Morse. 

NOTE. — The  foregoing  poem  was  inscribed  by  the  author,  and  prettily  illus- 
trated, on  a  piece  of  Alaska  cedar;  the  whole  inscription  being  burned  into  the 
wood  with  the  red-hot  point  of  a  metal  tool.  It  was  done  at  the  "Sea-level 
Mine,"  near  Ketchakan,  Alaska,  and  sent  to  me  at  Portland  as  a  Christmas 
gift,  1903. 


